It’s only a matter of time


 


 

Everybody’s looking for trouble

And if they come near me, they’ll get it.

That’s my philosophy on life

And it’s the only one I need.

Some nights are worse than others, and tonight I’m so peeved I can get refilled on drinks fast enough to keep the anger down.

Even the bartender looks at me sideways like he knows what I’m thinking and wonders if he cuts me off I might kill him.

I would.

If I don’t keep shoveling the booze into me, I’ll explode.

So I keep ordering drinks and he keeps the drinks coming, hoping I pass out before my fuse burns down.

Even the whore at the end of the bar is not help.

She looks and sounds too my like my ex-wife and I fantasized about beating her, not fucking her. So I sip my drink, hosing down the rage to keep me from doing either one.

One always leads to the other and I’m in no mood to deal with the police.

Sometimes, I see myself as an empty shell with a hole at the bottom. I pour booze into me, but it keeps coming right out.

Sometimes I’m lucky and the booze puts me to sleep.

But in the morning I just wake up with a hangover and have to start everything all over again.

I keep hoping my job, women or the booze will finally fill me up. I keep recombining them with the hope I might find the right combination.

Someone once called me an hour glass with sanding running out, and that sooner or later I’m destined to run out of sand and then go nuts.

I’m the guy newspapers always write about in headlines: Man kills wife and kids, then himself.

I keep thinking it’s only a matter of time until the last grain falls.

So I keep drinking, thinking maybe booze can slow that down, too.

But it has to come.






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