Snatches of life…

Last night’s sleep wasn’t good. Just like the last decade. He made futile attempts to settle his body in some painless nirvana pose that might wake him up without the neck pain. But as always he woke up with a numbing pain in his neck and shoulders. A few years back he would have worried about it, but now he just takes it as his age. He cricks his neck left and right and starts the day.

The desk near his bed is like a scrambled egg. Everything placed or rather dropped where some space could be eyed. It’s an assortment of things on his desk like the teacup fighting for some space with the taurine. He doesn’t care anymore. He has mortal things on his mind than worry about the deranged table.

Last nights food packet lies still untouched. He must have passed out before he could remember to get hungry and gorge it down. Drinking does that to him these days. He passes out before he would remember to enjoy his drunken evening. Never drinking again, he whispers the silent whisper of drunkards everywhere. Drunkards have no nation. There is no nation, to be honest. There is only ‘drunk nation’. The democratic, united, sovereign, great, brave, assholic, idiotic, republic of drunkistan. Nothing else. This world is increasingly hungover and we have no idea how to receive the aliens or prepare for ‘judgement’ day in the morning. This Titanic dumbfuckery will have no survivors.

Yet, he collects himself, he might as well do his day and have a beer in the evening. Alone. The only way for a little self-respect and sanity. Alone.