bitter coffee and crumpled up cigarettes.

I punched a dragon once.
Kicked reason to the curb and took another long hit.
Too long. Way too long. Like waiting for a letter to arrive from a distant memory.
I hacked up a lung. The knife was too sharp. It cut away more than the pain from tomorrow.
"Pain builds character." - that's what they say.
But all I wonder is: " What's the exchange rate from pain to pennies? " cause strife simply doesn't pay the bills I've got for being alive.
"It'll all work out in the end..."
Who comes up with these expressions?
The end is now. The later is gone.
I take another sip of my bitter coffee - chasing away the dog that bit me the night before.
He drew first blood from the roads of life that traverse my arms.
I may be down, but I'm not out.
"So take another hit.
" Let's chase the dragon into the sunrise. "