I feel so dry. a dusty rug hung and beaten with a shield of dust surrounding me . leftovers from the lashes. fucken strung out and bored. and it’s my day off, and it’s only 1:00 p.m.. sorry piece of work. it’s after 12:00 I guess I can drink . yeah! like alcohol etiquette ever played any part in my drinking decisions. spontaneous action. so many friends. their all gone now. victims to California gluttony. I thought I’d be dead by now. I courted death so many times. I was a persistent suture. roses and tequila let the overdose lull me to sleep. hum a familiar melody so I can join in on the chorus and guide me to the white light. I’m not afraid. but their is too much control in me and not enough destruction. I need to get out of here. where’s the night when you need it . driving down Pacific Coast highway at midnight pulling aside the road listening to the soft crash of waves and the winds whistles pulling my attention in all directions. maybe a little weed. it’s not necessary on a night like this but a few tokes for that light headed dream effect is a welcomed companion on nights alone. not stoned. just buzzed. the highway looks so beautiful against the ocean’s sheen of stars and constant motion. it’s like staring at the clouds and discovering different shapes on the seas surface. I am 10 again and up south is the Santa Monica pier with it’s colorful lights and giant Ferris wheel massaging the sky with a slow vertical roll. overflowing with young laughter and nervous anticipation. where lovers begin and friendships are formed. the center of attention. the envy of any carnival attraction glowing like an oasis. you lose touch with reality from this distance. no homeless, no crime, no negative connotations of an urban theme park overpopulated. I don’t want to think about it. I want to be ignorant, naive. just for a while. reality comes soon enough.