We're not taught about the reality of life. The crashing and burning, the pillaging and plundering. a rage of a dying thought clinging and lingering, holding on for dear life. It's all just a rat race no one wins. In the end we all die, we all die. A head on collision, a stick of dynamite in a quarry, a child being born, but I'm not like them, I am a drunken ballet circus side show that no one goes to, vodka flavored and in and out. Barely there and yet in full color. Emptied, disembodied, lobotomized, in full swing and on my face on the ground. A tired middle aged man with no place to call home, no woman of my own, no one to call me their own.
this was written on 10-11-2015
i was drunk and emotional
i kept it as a draft and
only just now deciding to post it
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