Another Day, Another Beer

I read a piece of writting today, all about memories. How they're something to hold on to. I suppose it's true, but not all roses are thornless. So I awake, past noon. Stumble around, my mind a playground for the heavy footed. I think about, about making my way to her door, through the cane,, to her door. But today I pack, remove my wall of memories, shove it all into a suitcase. Tomorrow I leave, move to a town, pretend to live a normal life, after so much strangeness. Time grinds on, till the hour says drink. I open one more corona, just one more beer. There'll be a carton gone before my head hits the pillow, of this I'm sure. I really ought to pack, really ought to clean, really ought to look to the future for these answers, the questions haunt me. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.
With tomorrow's sun, comes a fresh new song, a song that makes sad ones smile, happy people cry and crying people sing. A chance to change the world, from a brand new setting, the chance to wake up in a different bed. New people to make me see new things, new nights to provide new memories. But despite all this optimism, it is only another day, ending with another beer, just one more.