World begun to stagger after the second bottle. It reminded him that times at the cabin. Snuggled down. Dump. Sharing all his partners old sweat. Sea became sweet mother who lull them to sleep. After having tried to kill them in a hundred chances.
He missed that confidence swinging, resigned, between the predator arms. Defeated. Body totally destructed by the daily battle. Which will begin again the next day. And the next one. And the next one...
Until days were ended. They became lazy hours and later minutes that made themselves up slowly to slide dying to the next watch mark.
Sea was ended. World was ended. All the ports with red bedrooms. Only a few grey roads stayed left wandering around a little brown cubicle he could hardly pay. A hole. A pit. A grave.
Languid minutes became glasses. And then bottles. That swung that coffin. Sometimes just shroud.
Sea became red. Blood. And past. Life became red and white. And black many times.
His kingdom became bundle. Light. He carried it with resignation. Full of past. Begging a sight of future from any corner.
World begun to stagger after the second bottle. Floor took a unexpected vertical position, and he felt it hitting his face. His head. As a mallet. Known darkness came. To eyes and to private corners of the heart. And he felt he was at last back at home.
