Staggering, spinning.
Go. To. Bed.
Clumping around the house, now where'd that bottle go?
The cork comes out with a satisfying pop and she licks her lips hungrily as the deep, red liquid sloshes around the glass.
Staggering back to the screen, the screen.
She smacks her lips as she takes yet another gulp.
yummoh, much better than the brandy.
Though utterly smashed she can still remember that liquid fire, how many times it made her retch.
But it's all gone now, that foul brown stuff taken forty millilitres at a time.
She doesn’t care anymore, not what alice nor what flair will think.
It's party time on highway twelve, and she's zipping around in a world of confusing colours.
Her vision blurs, and the keyboard is slipping away.
Slipping, sliding, nearly there.
Collapsing on the bed, advice taken too late.
I wonder when they'll find my corpse she wonders, as the world slowly goes black.
Morning comes and the world is a blur.
She vaguely remembers throwing up in the kitchen sink, and why is she not wearing her pyjamas?
Thumping head, sick to the stomach;
achey longing feelings for the absence of sad.
But now it's all intensified, she's not flying anymore.
far from it.
Avoiding her, nearly all day, and thankfully no words are said as they brush past each other in a corridor.
Please don't hate me, she cries.
Go. To. Bed.
Clumping around the house, now where'd that bottle go?
The cork comes out with a satisfying pop and she licks her lips hungrily as the deep, red liquid sloshes around the glass.
Staggering back to the screen, the screen.
She smacks her lips as she takes yet another gulp.
yummoh, much better than the brandy.
Though utterly smashed she can still remember that liquid fire, how many times it made her retch.
But it's all gone now, that foul brown stuff taken forty millilitres at a time.
She doesn’t care anymore, not what alice nor what flair will think.
It's party time on highway twelve, and she's zipping around in a world of confusing colours.
Her vision blurs, and the keyboard is slipping away.
Slipping, sliding, nearly there.
Collapsing on the bed, advice taken too late.
I wonder when they'll find my corpse she wonders, as the world slowly goes black.
Morning comes and the world is a blur.
She vaguely remembers throwing up in the kitchen sink, and why is she not wearing her pyjamas?
Thumping head, sick to the stomach;
achey longing feelings for the absence of sad.
But now it's all intensified, she's not flying anymore.
far from it.
Avoiding her, nearly all day, and thankfully no words are said as they brush past each other in a corridor.
Please don't hate me, she cries.
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