I learned not to drink with Ambien one night. I woke up in Gresham with a broken arm. Cozy. Fucked, I know.
I’d say there are twelve steps down to the basement, but I only take three to get there. I take the back door.
The rest, I contest, are too steep.
“I am Ian. I am Ian. I am Iam,” I keep sayin’.
I escaped to the basement. Rock bottom. I wasn’t buying any anymore.
Only what I had left over. The older stuff. That honey bourbon, from when…
With Penny, When I was making it.
But when it’s over it’s over..
Good will never be enough, Simon.
I was looking at our fingertips, Simon. Do know what I saw?