Drunken Predator

The razor sharp lines separating responsibility and reason from other more base instincts slowly dull and chip under the weight of thick glass chalices overflowing with delicious, frothy poison.  Clock hands twist and turn as time breaks loose from its cosmic principles, becoming paradoxically malleable.  “How is it already one, it was just ten-thirty?  Christ, I’ve been standing in this line thirty minutes!  What, it’s only been five?!?”  Yep, there’s no two ways about it, I’m drunk.

Meandering through a gelatinous sea of flesh, I squint one crooked eye trying to focus in on this evening’s prize. Unfortunately big, tall, fat, and small all stay in flux as space itself seems to follow time’s leap off rational cliffs into the chaotic depths. Perhaps length, depth, and breadth have grown wary of their conformist ways and wish to live out their own rebellious teen drama; or maybe space simply feels as lubricated as I and cannot muster a single fuck to give. As I press forward, I am both of these feelings personified.

At some point the bubbling brew inside my head reaches critical mass forcing power outages in the frontal cortex. Speech slurs, forethought rescinds to the shadows, and consequences are thrown out with the bath water. In other words, the “rational animal” withdrawals from the scene and his place a wild beast resides who’s only purpose consists in satisfying every base desire. As is the case with every other unthinking creature in the wild this one covets and seeks out what it desires with vigor, preying on that which is weakest. But this is a different sort of weakness than say a lion or bear looks for; it is a weakness in character which this predator seeks. He seeks someone easily seduced, someone willing to throw their pride out the window just to feel loved if only for a moment. In short, he seeks that which I will hate in the morning.


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