A funky black death stink of a throat itch and painful slow swallow with each achy breath after another.
A weakness all through my interior slowly moving upwards and outwards. .mercylessly fighting to make me collapse inwards
.
.
.
.
.
.
. . but I won't.
I just feel like boogying. . and I don't do that.
I feel like getting my drink on and singing along to some silly catchy song.
I feel like hopping into my car and driving far far far away. . . . . . where sun shines and the colors are pretty. . . . while I drink and sing along to a silly catchy song. . .and laugh.
I feel like letting go of bullshit and grabbing onto dreams. . especially those nuh-uh-get-out-of-here kind.. . that you usually want to fall back asleep to to see what happens next.
I feel like old t-shirts and bare feet. . . . salty air, and seashells. . . . .
...silly music. . . and a drink.
I just feel like boogying. .