Let Hallow Music fill you
Morning can be recognized by an increase in the activity of flies.
"Touch nothing and you'll be nothing" were the words scrawled across his chest.
Around him lay a chaotic collection of items: ripped paper with scrawled messages composing the better part of his memory, unfinished paintings, and a handwritten manuscript titled "Quotha Forsooth" that seemed to have been covered with coffee; forgotten and dried.
The first mutterings of the day took form: "What ever happened to order and when did vagueness and ambiguity impregnate all my sentences?"
Whiskey was the goal and easily within reach; a stumble down the steps, an unpaid rent bill and a sweet yellow viscus wine.
Dragging jeans towards him he realized he couldn't be bothered finding his legs and quit that.
A small congealing dollop left from the last glass of the night before mixed with what looked like a lugi added in a sleepy sore throated fit was the goal now.
Easier too, a mere lean and a grab away.
"Needed some water mixed in" he thought as he swallowed dryly with his head tilted back; draining the final run down the inside of the cup.
Summer was near so the window had been opened, but a southerly was blowing so in the bedsheets he huddled; though not in bed.
He sat at his computer screen every two minutes refreshing his email inbox hoping that surely by now someone wanted to be his friend.
He wasn't severely obese, nor was he incredibly old. What did society have to avoid?
This depressed him though.
Tea boiled as Igor Strawinsky let long hollow and dull arrangements fill the cavernous room with "L'oiseau de feu" loosely translated to "Fire bird".
"Today is a day for existence, this I can see.
But existence seems to be avoiding me,
and when our barriers are breached
all I receive is hostility."
Through dull rhyme scheme and awkward use of words, he was the despondent; unresponsive in his vendetta against the depressed.
What sort of alcoholic has teddy bears? What sort of lonely man has paintings from admirers?
A deluded nostalgic narcissist confusing himself with the rest of the world.