the way i move fff #22,3,4

when i drink i smoke. glass then filter then glass pressed to lip in time over the a duration of the binge; heavy intoxication inevitable and ironcially the only way to clear my head. smoke streams from between knuckles and burns eyes long before the alcohol does. space and light wrinkle together blurring edges and faces until everything meshes into what was or could be. what is becomes irrelevant as i do. becoming more irrelevant with each sip or drag. shoulders tired from lifting bottle or jack. wrists weaken from baring the weight. my body sways to treble, my head nods to bass. music becomes the only direction i can take. ears and earlobes, warm with liquor sting against the cold air, absorbing the beat as i follow each tune aimlessly. tunes control like voodoo as i follow. drag. sip. bass booms. vision cloudier with each thump. sip. drag. boom. treble kicks. feet follow. drag. sip. step. step. step. boom. a less intoxicated me might have realised cold air meant i'd drifted outside. the final boom a car horn as heels flew over head and head crushed pavement. space and light blur edges into darkness. i think the car was playing the way you move.