Monday, July 26, 2010

The Couch

I watch her sleep on the couch as I drink the last of my plastic bottled whiskey, chased by some malt liquor shit.

I wonder if she knows. If subconsciously she can feel my eyes beating down on her like the sun on a beach going bikini babe along a Mexican playa.

The subtle whimpers and the slight leg tremor fascinates me.

I wish I could watch her dreams.