Kamikaze into the Abyss

Settling into a long drive in an old car with no cruise control, my foot curled like an ampersand, barefoot over the accelerator I pondered my direction. I figured that, more than likely, I'd arrive in the bEast pining for a respite only to find a vacant stage. Wearing the death mask of my 20s drunk and pillaged, the giggles of the room erupting like Pompeii scatter the ash of my shitty mood. The history of the wood paneled wall thick with a new coat of primer, the paintings of my past sightly askew. I settle into the chair. Rejuvenated. The scabs of the Cape peel pink, my rancor assuaged. My old friends knead my fresh wounds and tight thoughts malleable and mold them into a combined experience. Rekindling the fire and sipping from a fresh drink, I sense a genuine happiness that I had left for dead.