Dying in the Living Room
Vinnie Caruana
When sleep doesn’t work and you’re so sick of yourself. Can you think of anything more ironic than dying in the living room? Oh, my aching head. It’s boiling up again. And where is my heart? Cold wrist, colder heart. Welcome to the pain. Hey, at least you still feel. Smile wide, you’re alive. Where is my heart? Drunk in a stranger’s car. Sir, please just remain calm
