but she was a whore and i like your smile

another new year so lets do some coke and pop some pills, the brandy is in the freezer and the future wouldn't be so bad if it didn't always become the past. i don't want to be friends, in fact, and as i sip my motor oil cup of coffee (its early in the day and i'm still hungover) i fidget and smoke to avoid the memories of when our skin used to touch beneath the bed sheets; because the nights just haven't ever been the same. and a new year has just begun but the whiskey burns as usual (the whiskey is metaphor) and there ain't nothing out there but the sky and the snow and the moon. every one i know wants to fall in love but there are safer things which keep you warm just the same (it's never the same but it will do). i find it strange that when i press my palms against the bedroom wall theres only a few inches of plaster and paint which stop the winter and the cold from swallowing me whole.