Nouveau Pauvre

A 250ml bottle of Marks and Spencers Chardonnay – retrieved from a selection of New World wines gifted to me at Christmas by my mother – sits jammed in a crevice that my crossed legs form as I sit, stoned but not nearly stoned enough, idly clicking through news feeds online and intermittently stopping to watch, hypnotised as the bruising on my right knuckles deepens and reddens as the minutes go by. I pause now and then to take a gulp from the bottle, the way I used to with a Smirnoff Ice or Barcardi Breezer when I was a child being drunk on a field. I’m waiting on more tobacco so I can skin up the last of this weed.
 
The section of wall beside my rotting window is fine, and I’ll be fine too.
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