It can be hit or miss
talking with me.
I can be effusive
or withdrawn.
Sometimes I go on auto-pilot.
I’m soused but
determined to get home.
I lock in on survival mode:
Get to the train station.
Get on the right train.
Have a ticket or cash for fare.
Stay awake long enough
to get off at the right stop.
The goal is to wake up
the next morning—
or afternoon—
in my own bed;
hangover notwithstanding
and no recollection
of how I actually got home.
To find all my cash
& credit cards as they should be
even if a sock is on the stove
& my knickers are on the lamppost
I sip on coffee
as jackhammer drill into my brain.
The game is called survival
and I made it home again.
Messed Up!
If u don't know how you got home. Auto piloting - no, never did that during any decade. Amazing! :D slc
God protects fools, children
God protects fools, children and apparently drunks