I WIIL DRINK NO MORE FOREVER

THE DAYS OF WINE ARE GONE FOR SURE. ROSES THERE NEVER WERE ANY. THE MILLION OR SO CIGARETTES WITH WHICH I DREW THE SYMBOLS OF MY LIFFE ON EARTH IN THE AIR ARE A HORRID MEMORY WHICH CAUSES ME FEELINGS OF REGRET AND CULPABILITY. WHAT I AM SUCKING INTO MY SISTEM NOW THROUGH TUBES STUCK IN MY VEINS ARE SERUM AND HEPARIN, A SUBSTANCE THEY INJECT INTO YOU WHEN YOU ARE ON DIALYSIS. I FORGET WHAT IT IS FOR, EXACTLY... ONCE THERE USED TO BE MANY PEOPLE SIITING AROUND THE CAFE TABLE DRINKING AND SMOKING AND TALKING ALL KINDS OF NONSENSE. IT WAS GOOD. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. A LOT OF THOSE CHARACTERS WERE ECCENTRIC, PERHAPS CRAZY. THEY ALL WERE UNFORGETTABLE. SOME ARE STILL ALIVE. A LOT HAVE DIED. TIME HAS CHANGED. EVERYTHING HAS BECOME SOMETHING ELSE. THERE IS NO ONE BY MY HOSPITAL BED POURING WINE INTO A GLASS, OR LIGHTING A CIGARETTE. THOSE THINGS ARE SURELY RESPONSIBLE, AT LEAST PARTLY, FOR MY BEING HERE NOW, DEPENDENT ON A MACHINE TO CLEANSE MY BLOOD AND GO ON LIVING. YEAH, THEY WERE TERRIBLE THINGSTO DO, SMOKING AND DRINKINGSO MUCH. BUT IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. AND I SMOKED AND DRANK FOR MANY YEARS, WHILE I PONDERED ABOUT THE BEAUTY OF PEOPLE AND THE STRANGENESS OF THE SEASONS, AND FELL IN LOVE AND PAINTED PAINTINGS I THOUGHT WERE GREAT. ALL BEFORE FRIENDS BEGAN TO DIE ONE AFTER ANOTHER AND DEATH PLANTED ITSELF IN MY MIND LIKE A GREAT BLACK TREE IN A GARDEN FULL OF SNOW. AND NOW I AM GOING THROUGH MY OWN STRUGGLE WITH DISEASE AND MY OWN MORTALITY IS BEFORE ME AT ALL TIMES.
BUT I THINK BACK TO THOSE DAYS AND SEE THAT THEY WERE INNOCENT. AND I CAN TELL YOU I LONG TO GO BACK TO THOSE PLACES, WHEREVER THEY ARE IN THE TIME THAT HAS VANISHED, AND FIND THOSE PEOPLE WHO NO LONGER INHABIT THE PRESENT, AND SIT AT THE TABLE, AND DRINK WITHOUT CARE, UNTIL I FEEL LIKE BREAKING INTO A WILD SONG, AND WORRY ABOUT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.