emptyharbour

I'm home from the bar, with drink in my blood and sorrow in my heart. Perhaps this is the sign of a poor entry. Perhaps the sign of a poor man.

Kevin is upstairs with a woman. One who is not his girlfriend, not the one I've come to appreciate the company of. Do I have any comment? Do I have any concern? I do know even know if it is my place to even care.

But I am jealous. To be honest; to admit to the most blase and pathetic of emotions. Tonight we attended a show, smiled our smiles and danced our dances. And yet, I go home alone, depressed not for lack of sex, but for lack of interest on my own part. I find so women even remotely interesting these days.

I realize I am overly emotional. I realize I am caught up with the unattainable, the unrealistic. I understand that that which I seek, is perhaps already beyond my grasp.

I think I had it, once. Or maybe twice. And now all I'm tasting is regret and disappointment. I have made so many mistakes.

Watch as I go back
I just came to say that
you'll never see me again.
This clock is ours now, til morning.
So stay right there in that frame
This picture is how we speak.
You'll never see me again,
cause I miss you already.

I'm going to sleep now, and this bottle is coming with me.