I’ve picked up a new vice
This vice being tea. Ain’t no vice quite so good because the only problem I see so far is yellow teeth.
A cup in the morning. A cup in the night. Make that three, make that five.
Make the rapid depletion of my stock mirror my own moral depletion.
Make it’s curling steam burn my face, bleed me back to oblivion.
Make the violent steeping stop the stealing of each streaking hour, my time blowing into cigarette-like vapors and chamomile scented breath.
The talk and the tussle,
This life that is never-ending.
The three things I can’t control:
the falling of the snow,
the ticking of the clock,
the beating of my heart:
remind me all that I am alive.
Human. Here. Dwelling endlessly.
Separated from sensation, thought from action,
but moving all the same.
— Jack Kerouac (via showslow)
And then, on my last night here, there was a blast of orgastic synchronicity, the likes of which have yet to be seen since the early days of life. Everything was a bolt of rainbow lighting, a blast of knowing color. Creation and destruction were equal and where I again realized every dream which I had wanted for my life, for my soul, for my self. It was midnight and there were colors and people on the screen and A Day in the Life was playing. Perhaps I won’t ever forget it.
On my last night here.
So long family, friends, sunshine, and self-confidence. It’s been a real pleasure. See you in four months or whenever I reach for the level that stops the wheel of agony I crush myself on.
Anyone have an zydrate hangin’ around? I’m jonesing in a Paris Hilton way and could use a fix real bad.