Oooh you're a naughty mess

projected intake for the evening: 6 500ml cans stella and 20cls whiskey/ one must be kind to one's body/ i'll be as sick as a swine-hund come thursday morning so must contrive a way to get at least one bag/ the sickness just creeps up on you/ blissful evening follows blissful evening and before you know it you wake up sick: cramps, agonising brightness, listlessness, pain/ it's fucking unfair/ why should man not be allowed bliss without such a vile cost?/ such bliss is what one deserves?/ why should everything have a price?/ it's just not fucking fair/ after 40cls brandy and a couple of bags of 'primo shit' one feels absolutely exquisite/ one sinks into what ever rags break one's fall and drifts into delightful oblivion/