I have found the lorazazzezzzz my lady has taken to hiding from me and I have taken them and I have drunk the wine today. Chianti (Gabbiano), and the bottle's almost empty, and the cup is to the left of me (left to me). It's like the blood of a sacrificial bull when I pour it in me, warm, dark red, flowing. Sometimes it's as good as beer. Sometimes it's better. Like now... sitting in my swivel chair, listening to the rain coming down and Bach's Organ Music. The house is dark, even though it's still daylight, and the wind outside blowing the palms around.
I take a sip of red... I'm in no rush to do anything, no one's waiting on me and I'm not dreading or expecting anything.
(shut that door)
Of course, this isn't going to last.
I'm just temporarily in abeyance.
Is that the right word?
And temporary like John the Baptist.
Anyway, bliss like this is always fleeting because it has to be.
Bliss has no memory.
Friction makes most.
