Many times has the sweet liquor perfumed the evening and kissed me goodnight, tucking in the worries, laying them to rest.
And often has the stinking aroma blanketed my troubled thoughts in a cloud, making reality irrelevant.
Both suffice in perverting my world in a weird contortion,
more than normal.
I sympathize more to the lonely drunkard than the lone smoker.
The difference lies in their motives, which coincidentally, are very similar.
Raised by the bottle and ruled by the haze.
I have always persecuted the former and defended the latter, and to my deepest regret.
Both unnecessary evils, yet both necessities in my life.
My preferences reveal what I am still afraid to accept, but it will take just as long to tear down the walls as it did to erect them, turning my back on the architect and looking towards the demolisher.
Can the cause be the cure if there is no cure? Does this explain why I justify it?
I'm just trying to see the world through their eyes.
Maybe then I can understand why they did it.
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