Wine is in all of my moments.  If I try to refrain, it’s permissively insane.  It insists.  IT’s there to tell me that I can keep writing, that I can have my own thoughts, that I deserve my own moments.  Wine yells to me to ignore any nay-saying front, any negative climate or storm approaching.  run the other way.  That doesn’t make you a coward.  That means you’re measured.  Wine is 10:37p, where I am now, and what I’m thinking, how I know I should be in be but I want to send more moments with here.  Wine is freedom and reality, is telling, is pursuit and purpose, moments, music— me.

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