its 450 am and i am awake alone in a strange apartment. in the living room two grown men lay sprawled out on a single couch. in the i sit alone in a quiet bedroom, awake long past any reasonable hour. on the desk in front of me sits a long neglected clock which reads march 3rd 2007, 7:32 am. the desk is clean and well organized with the exception of one blunt roach which lies next to a pile of ash, one bag of marijuana, and 2 bowls which are packed full and ready to smoke. the apartment has been neglected along with the clock, not by the current tenants, but by the owner. the fine hardwood floors sag and crack towards the large decaying brick chimney which rises prominently through the middle of the apartment. the walls and ceiling crack from years of stress. new has been plastered on top of old in a futile attempt to hide the years of aging and neglect. as the neatly laid out drugs before me call my name i think of how i would love to have a place like this to call my home, but such thoughts are a waste tonight. there is to much alcohol clouding my sleep deprived brain. i light my final cigarette in an attempt to calm my mind before i leave the drugs behind, untouched, and venture out of this room to find a place to lay my head until dawn. what a strange night this has been. . .
its 8 am when i finally and reluctantly awake. i smoke a cigarette despite the fact that my mouth tastes like an asshole. its a short ride back to dans house. the sad dog is nowhere in sight this morning. shes probibly in some far off corner fearing the floor. in dans room, the nightmare before christmas is on television and he talks to me about some long forgotten rap song. i sit and think back to last night, and remember a long cold walk and chris yelling at bums on bikes. i feel like a genius and congratulate myself on remembering to pack my toothbrush. its now time for some coffee to prepare me for the day. it will be a long one indeed. . .
spater