Almost missed sunset. Now, time to drink Budweiser. Time to spend my evening and my night in my way. Time to forget mother and father and friends and brothers and sisters and servants and landlords and caretakers. Time to tear open the sack of chaos. Time for music and drinks and Van Gogh and Murakami and nothing else. Love can go to hell. Friendship can go to hell. Work can go to hell. Everything else, well, is already in hell.Time to sit back in my chair and wait for the end of the world, hoping it’s tonight. Time to fill my room with smoke as I take another sip. Time to forget the wounds in my leg and at the center of my chest. Time to keep my legs on the bed and my heart in my grave and take another long drag of cigarette. Time to forget the doorbell and the dinner. Time to forget hot black coffee because tonight, I’ve got chilled beer stacked in my fridge. Time to listen to the same song aloud and on repeat until my head begins to fall apart. Time to take another sip of cold beer and watch the night enter through the open window and spill its rain-filled blood on my pillow. Time to forget about the goddamn poetry and the goddamn poets because nobody gives a shit anyways.
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Tomic Riter 
Sometimes I miss this feeling. I should try to capture it again, if only in words.
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