By Sean King
she came around on a wednesday. it was after hearing that i had destroyed my life and severed my love. again no less. she bought wine with her. i don’t drink wine. i can’t drink wine.
“here, i bought wine.”
i poured us a couple of glasses as she settled in for an attempt at the long haul. alcohol, it seemed, was where i was being drawn again. an inability at peace and quiet the only draw card to fuel further hatred at what i had become. i guzzled. the taste was like acid and acid was just what the order of the moment turned out to be. Continue reading LIKE HEMINGWAY AND JEWS AND FREEDOM