P*&%ed

I'm drunk, pissed, munted, fucked. I had a few drinks and now I'm eliminated mentally. Maybe it will flow now? Maybe it wont be sooo exact, easy and slippery. I'm listening to Lupe Fiasco and Mathew Santos, "Superstar", I love that song. I wonder how I got to be here and how come karma wants to meet on the battlefield every fucking 5 minutes.
I paid my dues this year, got a KO, took a beating, stumbled and kneeled before the creator. Not low enough you say? My face is to the earth, there is no place lower....
Trying to ponder the lesson, listening carefully, trying to decipher what it is the universe wants me to hear. I'm listening.
If Heaven was a mile away, would I pack up bags and move there....?
Thanks Nas and Mary J Blige. The phone just rang, its hard to be pissed and talk coherently, not cool at all. I think I was understoon, too bad if I wasn't. Lips like rubber bands, feet like sand bags.. what the hell. Better Man by Pearl Jam.
But the vodka flows anyway. Cheers everyone. Today was too hard, sometimes its too hard.