I sit

I stand

I attempt

to walk.

I sip

It's bland

I would test it.

I'm quite picky.

The pint is cold

The night is old

And everyone's waddling out

To Vehicles.

And possibly

to their deaths

But more than likely

The Death of someone else

If that were the case, anyway.

But let's not think about that.

No. You don't talk about those things,

It's supposed to be bad form, really.

Ruins the spirit of things.

Don't be that guy.

That guy that

Starts to talk

About

Heavy

Stuff

O'er

The

Tap.

Anyhow,

I'm enjoying this

Maybe a little

XX Much

"Enjoying this too much"

What a loaded statement

This is

No?

I'm among friends

And we're letting things out

And it makes me feel good

To "shout" a little about sum

Thangs. Thanks. Things.

That've been pent.

Bottled up, so to

Say. Interesting,

That thought.

How things

Come un-

bottled

When

You

Sip.

It's all quite healthy

You know.

Therapeutic, really.

Or maybe this depends

on your definition of the

word. That word.

"Healthy"

Hm.

Ah well.

Carry on, then.

Happy "sipping"

Stay safe and smart

And be well

My friends.

Goodnight.

And Cheers!

'Clink'

Truth.

What is that?

Nothing more than

Something you believe is true

Postulate

A thought

A word

A concept

Convince others

Pound it in their brains

Tell them everyday

Leave no room for other faiths

Think hard

Something can be true

It can also be false

It can be both.

Believe what you believe.

Think what you think.

But what you preach

Others might not agree.

Twenty minutes ago, when the clock struck twelve,

Became the day that three months ago my life was struck with a heavy blow.

Since then my life has been out of control,

And I'm but a lump of flesh, I know, so my wish of floating away will never be so.

That night, ninety days ago, is the first I wished I would truly be the one below.

"When I'm six feet below," people have always joked,

Is now the torture that I will forever know.

My sweetest bubs, Im so scared to show,

To all these extras in my life that I'm no longer whole.

I lie in bed for hours with no sleep to be shown,

For this hard work that living is, can't you help keep me afloat?

You see, now I'm washed up on the shore below,

The one in my dreams that is far below,

Don't you see the jagged rocks, there to cushion my fall? Whether sleeping or waking, life is never worth the weight of my constant choke.

Is this all some kind of shitty joke?