Saturday, August 27, 2011

I call this part of my life, 'Happiness'.

I know we may have had issues in the past, but I am over them now. Now you're a part of me; now, you're almost me.

I may have sworn on one beloved too many to cut you off from my life. Most parts of you at least, if not completely. But it's too damn hard. I don't know or understand why I must blog about you at all. Aren't you just another little inconsequential blob in my life? Aren't you that which ties me down, apparently? It might just be true, you know? That's what they tell me. 
And they're hardly ever completely wrong.

Ha. Of course you'd deny it.
I mean, why wouldn't you?
All you've ever wanted is for me to get entrapped in your shackles and deliberately offend my pride, among other things. You know what's stranger? That I let you. Each time, I do.
Most times, I do.

You might wonder why I let you, though. Let you get me into the state of absolute passion wherein my eyes roll into the back of  my head more often than not and I can only see myself addicted to all the things you do. It's a different high. To think you weren't an active part of my life only ten months ago, sends a chill down my spine; and then again, you do too... send chills down my spine. And other places. Isolated evenings, happy nights, peaceful mornings- you've been there. We've been through a lot together. Last year-end was  especially hard, don't you think? But then, there's something about you and I.

I am so lucky to have found you. Found or discovered? I don't know if one's more apt than the other. My dear, Old Monk with coke, you're special. Every sip makes me wonder what your lips might look like, had you been a real person. On my higher points, I think I try and feel the shape of your mouth on my lips. I don't think they're trouty, though. It's got to be Old Monk and not Bacardi, for me. Bacardi's got this vanilla-like after taste. Nothing brings more warmth to my heart than when my company orders my 'usual' for me. Just, don't ask me, order me my drink and let it repeat over and over. And then some more. You'd have me smiling at you for hours while I probably picture you naked.
Nah. I don't picture all my women naked. Only, the one.

I am not too appreciative of my heightened capacity for drinking suddenly. That's heavier on the pocket, of course. But ah! the bliss. I have had my most intelligent conversations under influence; with men, women and dogs. Not to mention, the nirvana achievement in the dancing. *insert orgasmic noises here*
All that, with one cigarette too many, It's fireworks!

Just you and I and everyone aside,
especially beer;
I call this part of my life, 'Happiness'.

Some people sing, some people fly.
I  apparently have conversations with their dog when I'm high.
"You've got a great life, you dog! Be my purple money now?"