cant stay here

A half-empty glass, a cigarette burning down, and the last track bought for small change in the old jukebox sounds depressingly appropriate. The bar is closing, everyone around is already too drunk, and the silence on the phone is louder than any bass.

It feels as if the night itself has decided to show you the door, saying, ‘Go anywhere, just not here.’ And all that remains is this viscous state - not melancholy, not anger, but stubborn apathy that asks for only one thing: let me go into the darkness and leave me alone.