Icarus's blog: "Just South of Blue."

I hope you're here when I wake up.
Whiskey bottomed out.
Now I'm stuck on down times and an unerring sense of good.
Yellow light is wandering through my window,
sick wet air is adding ten pounds to everything.

I don't think.
The crazy jazz of morning hung over is clashing with each uneven step.
Slept right through church
and two games.

I'd wait for the day to stop spinning,
but we're already on the final approach to orange dusk.
Resume the pursuit.
Numb.
Still.
Cool.

What will we talk about
when you're over ignoring me
and I'm done wanting you.