I woke up with
the stench of NyQuil on my breath
and crushed Sudafed tablets lining my nostrils,
the ashtray mumbled something about the roaches
and I staggered to the fridge to finish the last Guru/RedBull cocktail,
but the music was still there.
Everywhere.
the only thing that sleep wouldn't shake.
open the fridge and it greets you.
grab a drink and it sings.
It's not a bad thing, just ever-present and a bit much.
I always wondered what it would be like to have a soundtrack for my life,
and I guess this is it.
one slip...
happiness can be bought or prescribed or dispensed over the counter or found
in the bottom of a box
in the back of the closet cuz that's where you put the extension tube for
the old Pentax you bought in the Rockies 10 years ago
and you were wondering where it had gone.
sometimes you just forget to remeber I guess.