(eclipse ease)

My brain is that half broken ended conversation where the only motherfucker gauranteed to sleep well enough to see dawn with a clear fucking conscience is the drunkest...

And here i am, scrambling. struggling. choking down water just to insure that there's some viable part left of me come morning when i should be investing my life in more beer and cocaine and carl and the rest of the punk rocking fucking rhetoric which i'm still so amazed to be a part of...

It's that summer kiss (half-spring, really) that keeps me here. pissed and chained to my vice. the beauty hidden (poorly, i imagine) among the fury and stunted arguements that weren't designed to have anything like an end.

A fucking girl.

A beautiful fucking girl already versed enough in breaking my heart to know how best to get the blood rushing right out of my mouth.

But that sounds cynical.

Truth of the matter is i'm just as lost in her eyes as i was the first hangover that brough us together. and tomorrow (today, really...holy christ) i'll feel the same loss of breath. the same skipping beat. the incomparable joy of the night we first kissed on her doorstep late at night just trying to keep our dreams on straight.