I remember drinking and drinking. I would open a 40oz or three and play solitaire with Lady Death. My body had a sweet moribund stink about it and my bowels were like a Vegas slot. I had a real talent for all things jive and made looking foolish an exercise in poetry. Most mornings I would spend heaving and picking the glass out of my feet. I was a thanatoxic wunderkind. Everybody’s good at something.
I remember drinking and drinking
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