influence

the room spun, his body felt heavy. He'd made it up the stairs, though barely. He thought about his actions before they disappeared into oblivion never to see the light of day again. He cringed at the sobriety and welcomed the mental levity the drugs brought him. They were all a smoke-screen to cover up the distant and corrosive past the he refused to acknowledge.

The sad times he referred to them in his more lucid states. Alas, his lucidity never quite lasted long enough to make an impression in his conscious.

For some odd reason or occurrence, he'd went outside to sit on the porch. His eyes hazy, glassy, empty and dull. The drugs are just deeply sobering he'd often repeat. Sobering to see what the world has become without your insolence, maybe.

He closed his eyes as he sat upright and began to drift. His mind went places he didn't want it to and his brain couldn't find one simple place to relax in between any of it. He felt a void rising in him and the man was helpless but to accept what he was given.

Instead, he lay down on his porch and drift away with the evening air.