The Reverend and Gloria.
Drinking in the dark again.
I'm pissed again.
This happens to me a lot really, usually on Thursday, but when I have the money and drink, I go overboard. Stomach pumped three times, and one liver operation. I lost touch with my real name sometime ago. Everyone calls me the Reverend, or Rev. Take your pick.
The electric in my flat ran out again today and I don't get social payments for another two weeks. I sit there in the dark, slowly filling my grave up with drink beverages.
I manage to get up and out of my seat, before slouching over to the window, looking out at it of the city. It disgusts me. The way that people crawl on the pavement, like insects hurrying off. I hate the whole lot of them, even the ones who I go drinking With.
Fucking, filthy bastards.
As I look round my flat though, blurry eyed, I sigh. My flat isn't much cleaner than the parasites below me. I've worked away from that, to be better than them. I used to be a really happy go person, before the... "Accident."
I turn round again and hiss, almost in a warning as I catch the reflection of my face. I frown as I see the scar, leading from my scalp, down past my eye, across my mouth and half way down my neck.
I hate knife crime, I'm a lucky one, you could say. I learned never to trust people again, they are all.. Fucking... Worthless. I hate them. Oh god, now I'm sounding like some politician!
I walk over to my bed, the same bed for six years, all broken and worn. I sit in it, before crawling to the middle, the bed sinks and I with it. I did have a pet cat, but it ran away. I could never love anything again. Fluffy ran away because he was afraid of the needles I would give him.
I wanted to make everything perfect, everything just so... Right, because doctors couldn't do it with my face. Bastards.
I curl up next to a empty bottle, that used to contain Vodka in it and fall into a fitful sleep. I had no neighbors. A empty place. The people moved out when they found out their cats and other pets were missing.
I was only making them better, right?
Around half three in the morning, I woke with a start. That horrible nightmare again. I sigh as I pull myself up and out the bed, before getting dressed. Once that was over, I made a glass of some kind of cocktail I made, before gulping.
I enjoyed the stinging sensation in my throat. I put the glass in the already overflowing sink and got some cigarettes from the counter. I lit one and sighed. Life was good.
I'm the Reverend, welcome to my life kids.
This happens to me a lot really, usually on Thursday, but when I have the money and drink, I go overboard. Stomach pumped three times, and one liver operation. I lost touch with my real name sometime ago. Everyone calls me the Reverend, or Rev. Take your pick.
The electric in my flat ran out again today and I don't get social payments for another two weeks. I sit there in the dark, slowly filling my grave up with drink beverages.
I manage to get up and out of my seat, before slouching over to the window, looking out at it of the city. It disgusts me. The way that people crawl on the pavement, like insects hurrying off. I hate the whole lot of them, even the ones who I go drinking With.
Fucking, filthy bastards.
As I look round my flat though, blurry eyed, I sigh. My flat isn't much cleaner than the parasites below me. I've worked away from that, to be better than them. I used to be a really happy go person, before the... "Accident."
I turn round again and hiss, almost in a warning as I catch the reflection of my face. I frown as I see the scar, leading from my scalp, down past my eye, across my mouth and half way down my neck.
I hate knife crime, I'm a lucky one, you could say. I learned never to trust people again, they are all.. Fucking... Worthless. I hate them. Oh god, now I'm sounding like some politician!
I walk over to my bed, the same bed for six years, all broken and worn. I sit in it, before crawling to the middle, the bed sinks and I with it. I did have a pet cat, but it ran away. I could never love anything again. Fluffy ran away because he was afraid of the needles I would give him.
I wanted to make everything perfect, everything just so... Right, because doctors couldn't do it with my face. Bastards.
I curl up next to a empty bottle, that used to contain Vodka in it and fall into a fitful sleep. I had no neighbors. A empty place. The people moved out when they found out their cats and other pets were missing.
I was only making them better, right?
Around half three in the morning, I woke with a start. That horrible nightmare again. I sigh as I pull myself up and out the bed, before getting dressed. Once that was over, I made a glass of some kind of cocktail I made, before gulping.
I enjoyed the stinging sensation in my throat. I put the glass in the already overflowing sink and got some cigarettes from the counter. I lit one and sighed. Life was good.
I'm the Reverend, welcome to my life kids.