SUMMER NIGHTS EQUAL WINTER DREAMS

These summer nights so frequently remind me of winter dreams. I always found comfort inside the bottle clenched inside my empty hands; it's hard to understand if you were born a simple man, but people like me like to sail wild and accessible on the open sea.

Why do these memories insist on calling me back to a place where I would rather not be? Are they calling because more questions need answers? Are they calling because they are exactly like  me and want to know if I am free for a visit?

Someone take this bottle away, for every time it touches my mouth to enter my lips like a fly in the summer nights, I enter the dreams of a winter where I was whole and not so cold.