she was consumed by 3 simple things: drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more: youth and beauty
my youth, one time, that time I knew even through the nothingness, it was a celebration of something not to do but only know.
2 p.m. beer nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses die and the landladies stare in the halls; brisk the music of pulled shades, a last man's cave in an eternity of swarm and explosion; nothing but the dripping sink, the empty bottle, euphoria, youth fenced in, stabbed and shaven, taught words propped up to die.
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