i hate when i got to wait for anything

Exhaustion completely clouds his line of sight ‘til all he is, is fuzzy edges of creamy brown walls, warm lighting, and hands that hold him in place despite his frequent swaying. God, he’s fucking tired. Sleep slurs its way out of his mouth, like the same way your drug of choice turns you into a drooly, drifting mess with the blanket it wraps around you. I wish my eyes could focus on you like this forever, and I hate eye contact. When you look at me like this, I feel like I’m turning into nothing but the mush people wish I’d be. It’s worse when I’m tired and drunk and all I want is to be buried in this sweltering heat. I want you to hold me forever. Never leave me either, okay?