I don't usually drink.
I only drink when it rains. I don't know why. I feel my brain starting to numb. I don't usually get drunk. Only when there's thunder roaring and echoing between the buildings of the town. With each loud clap of thunder, I swing the bottle of vodka up and let the cool liquid slide down my throat, fire as its tail. I smile at the now empty bottle and slam the glass hard against the floor, watching it scatter into millions of pieces.
I can't walk on my toes. I can hardly walk as it is. I keep swinging from side to side. With the alcohol running through my veins, I shout to the empty neighborhood and raining clouds.
"Fuck all of you, fuckers. You don't know a damn thing about this world, and I still have a lot to live through, you bastards."
