Luckenbach Texas

Right. I sit around doing nothing. I drink cheap beer alone all night, every night. Pabst. You know it. I wish I would hit the number. Or have some superpower. Because I would waste it.
I want to start running. I just want to run. I want to hit my door and pound feet to the street until I have run out of room. Veins pumping battery acid has nothing on me. I want to reach the point where if I move one more muscle I will die. I want that feeling and I want to let it swirl around me and bathe in it like it's the salt baths of eternal life. I want to hit the point where the only communication I have had, for so long, is with myself that I know the story. I don't want to know how to form words with my mouth and utilize the muscles in my throat to grunt them out. I want to hit this point and smile because I would know something no one else would. I would have that knowledge, that power and never share it. I would monopolize it like it was worth something. But no one else would care. Because the Real World is on. The point in battle where chaos makes sense and is completely rationale. You can't adjust back to civilized life because the bedlam is home. It feels more safe there than anywhere. You don't know how you lived without it. I swear I could love you if you gave it a chance. I swear you wouldn't think of him when you use your favorite shampoo. But I would. I wouldn't be able to escape his shadow, in my own mind. I would haunt this haunt I've haunted before. I couldn't escape. So I would embrace it, call it home and receive my mail there. But it could be fun.