Watery Grave

I'm wreck and shipped, ripped in currents through past and present blunders, wondering if I can learn and repair before becoming impaired again. I need not be destroyed in a watery grave because of my behavior, under the sea, settled amongst fishy debris. I should not recover only to make new mistakes in the wake of land leaves, breeding eternal disease as if it pleased me affectively.
It is a surprise that I haven't yet met my demise and it is amazing I can face me in mirrored reflections on occasion affectionately. Too often feeling dejected with thorough introspection, fighting the weapons of questions, I mention internally displeased repeatedly. How do I secure the fixture to remain pure? What is the cure for my daily concerns?
The absence of answers, no conclusion to lure me from contention, I swallow another sip and grip the fantastic disinterest as I get ripped. Growing remotely more distant from each instance I forget that I am swimming and begin floating towards drowning; solidly swaying between sorrows and regretful tomorrows which I borrow in advance, glancing past the math of how it happens without a life raft; sunken under drunken aftermaths, forgotten lonely nightly paths, which I cannot remember, so I cannot rehash.

Category:

People & Blogs

Tags:

• Drunk
• Death
• Hangover
• Regret
• Eddie
• Lahti
• Henry
• Miller
• Jack
• Kerouac
• Famous
• Writer
• Performance
• Bar
• Alcohol
• Beat
• Generation

[jackkerouac28]

this is "truth" man

from the start of an alcohol fueled night

till sleep finds you,then crazy dreams taking you across the universe and back,then waking up in foggy haze, and (memory).......

i dig your stuff man!