Deafening, the sound of cars like the flow of water
Streetlights dot hope like a swarm of lonely fishing boats
Cars speed by like trout upstream
Wandering to the store like an urban water snake, slither
Walking alone, with my thoughts as only company
Along the shores of my concrete river

The world is like sandpaper to my nerves
Raindrops seem like bombshells to my ears, and well
Every touch by my own hands is met with an internally antisocial taint
Heartburn and headache are my companions now
Light burns my eyes like sulfur
I need someone to **** me senseless and wake me when its over

Im a Grouch. On the inside
I try to be a lot of things, I try to be a good friends, a good, listener
To be generous and forgiving, try to be a, man of my word
I try to be all these things.
That would be easy if I wasn't so angry
"Your a grouch, go live in a trash can"
Nothing could be more accurate eh?
A receptacle for the worst of people
A place for them to discard the spent little pieces of themselves
Crumpled up and thrown away.
You become filled with that. The wrong stuff
You become a discarded napkin on the inside
Coffee and lipstick stains the echoes of rough mornings and old heartache.
Other people throw those things away and move on.
But you, their ******* bin are forced to hold on to those past aggressions
Is it any wonder I'm so angry?  
Were all like that, memory is garbage.
A festering old sandwich in a bin that clearly reads, paper only, recycle please.

sentences go off like gunshots.
the smallest of sounds have the loudest of consequences.
whispers make waves.
the quietest of confessions carry the most catastrophic concussions.
words are weapons and our mouths are at war.