postcard

I drunken slept for like three hours and then awoke. Something then hit he in the face - it was an arm. It felt dead. A second later I discovered it was my own, and it was completely devoid of feeling after lying on it. But I had a nice evening talking shit and acting noisy with sweet Scandi girls of the radiant cool eyes, and me mates innit.
Carelessly wasted a few dew kissed days, looking neither forward nor back, choosing instead to lovingly know each day platonically and lay down with every dusk and know it carnally. S'what it's all about.
Now I am back home from holidaying, staring at the sunlight reflecting off the tower blocks and wishing I could sleep forever *sigh*

Why are you up so early, silly? Be like me - the enemy of effort.