Reflections on time

Twisted and mangled memories spill from my head the way vomit spills from the mouth of a drunkard after that last drink for the road. Sometimes it's amazing where inspiration comes from. Between the emotions I ignored from the start and the thoughts I battled at the end, I'm not sure where I lost myself. I'm far better than this. Nothing lasts forever, so why do you make it such a fight? I've been wandering around this God forsaken town looking for the times when I was on top, when I could raise my glass high and toast, but it won't get any better than this. All I really want is to feel the waves on my feet and the sun on my back, as night creeps across the sand. Dark fingers that caress the skin and remind us that everything comes to an end eventually. Nothing is real until it's gone.