(charming sure)

My brain is a blue midnight swoon calling out the ghosts, the ghouls, the goblins that lurk in the idle shadows of the daylight for a slow dance at the car crash for the next in the longest line of last times.

But who am i kidding?

These times should only ever end suddenly. no tragic spiral. no pointed denouement. just a burst and then a silence and the next morning (or afternoon as certain sundays often see) we meet again and smile remembering just how ridiculous a life can be when its as rich with drink and company.