feb 18

Question my own drunken motives with the discerning eye of jury and executioner, those terrible fallacious beliefs in a happy 32oz of beer, repeating over and over until harboring resentment to my poor orphaned liver, the prayers that go unheard fill up the sky with stars and my stomach bleeds angry tears, detox those hubristic thoughts, that daunting task to finish off the next beer and the better, or best and gracious, lauded applause, arrow points in all direction. The blue sky chased me out of my delirium though a gentle nice sounds rather harmonious.