lamposts try to rule my life

The night was a blur of stricken lights and murky mist.
There was an aftertaste of sadness to it all.
I don’t know what time it was or how long had I been up, but the smell of the air was starting to offend me.
I thought the light I saw was a flash of wisdom, it was only a light bulb exploding. I won't be learning anything tonight.
The rum eased away all the nervous thoughts built up over the days and weeks that preceded the eventful evening.
Rum always helps to focus on the matter at hand, unforgiving.
An adventurous bat circled over our heads, i suppose attracted by the heat and flickers of orange from our cigarettes. I’m surprised to see something natural in this harsh part of town… then again things exist beyond anyone’s control, they tell me.
I don’t want to say what I was thinking but the gentle rocking of this train that’s taking me away from it all, makes me wonder if I should.
What’s so scary about speaking one’s mind? Do I get frightened by my own thoughts? Do I worry about what’s hidden between them? Is it possible that people would understand things that I have no idea I was thinking about? Is it worth the risk? Why is it that we always stop at the word risk? What stops me from just being simply clear and uncompromisingly honest?
The truth is often too boring and banal to be spoken. I choose my stories, I garnish them, I twist them, I never totally remove them from the truth but they are never true, either.
I ask too many questions to ever manage to find answers.
Our cigarettes burn quicker in the crispy wind. More rum is awaiting on the table inside, I think she drinks for the same reasons I do. It is to alleviate the pain, the disorientation. It helps facing the mistakes. Sometimes it helps trying to do things we know we want to do but there is no way we're going to. The rum is often not enough.
Laughter and jokes, smiling faces and sideways looks. Who does know? What do they know? Maybe it is plain for everyone to see! What haven’t we told them? What do I think I know it is most certainly not what I should know, or the truth for that matter. But the truth does not matter. Not to this world anyways. Or to me anymore.
All I try to do is to navigate through the confusion that situations create.
I must not be a good sailor.