I'm leaning on a stand for support of something or other,
he's putting the mic closer to the speakers;
feedback.
It's a response to questions I was caught screaming towards the back wall,
only to hear them break at the far-end over the tops of 'them'.
Vibrations making my skin tremble,
in fear,
in repose,
in envy,
of those whose lights shine brighter than mine do.
In this dark secluded resting place of weary alcoholics and cheap lays,
who am I trying to impress but the bartender who gives shoddy looks through ***** glasses.
She's squiggling on the floor and I doubt she even knows why,
but he can dig it.
Nobody gives a **** what's playing as long as they hear it.
So I have them hear it,
they have them feel it
and we go on like this for forty-five minutes.
They're grateful,
but their drunk so that's not saying much.
This is all the fantasy I psych myself up for,
I'm projecting.

I'm laying in the ruins of my own new lifestyle.
Tipped over bottles of ***** aside,
I still feel okay.
I wonder if the world's crusted over pedestals still condescend to me
or if I have gone beyond their gaze.
There are little plastic fairy tales dancing around in my head like tipsy gumdrops.
What wonders shall spring from this:
(the new day,
the old day,
the ever increasingly frequented day)
except hangovers and light thoughts about how I'm handling this well,
I'm handling this extremely well.
Again.
I still feel okay as long as there is 80 proof to wake up to.

Everyone is up to their knees in **** talk,
They all word ***** in mass.
So I sit back and I watch them eat each other,
whilst falling over themselves.
It's something akin to the end of days.
Revelations revealed in all it's gory details.
I'm just waiting for the ravens to pluck out their eyes.
It's ravenous and disgusting the way they drool at the scent of blood.
It sickens me the way they tear at their own flesh.
They're so consumed with blood-lust and so attached to their own need to feed that they lost track of where their skin ends and their prey's begins.

Cry me a river.
Douse me in the irony of conflict.
I'm just a rock on the edge of it,
sitting patiently for your sigh.
We both sit idly by, tensed for the precious birth of words in silence. Trust the ever-living body of guilt that is boiling over the edges of my self-concept.
Don't speak to me as if I'm some dignitary for justice, but simply as if I might irk out some monochrome of truth whilst I sip my coffee in exasperation.
Irritation is also intoxication might I remind,
so I'm fumbling and tripping over my own flawed reasoning.
I got to this point somehow,
so let us examine it rationally and see why I drowned in the liquor of my own rhetoric.
Or, we can sit tentatively vacant waiting for some resolution to spring from the ether that is the growing chasm between us.

Everything's closed down.
It's like I could feel the 7-11's halogen lights flickering off and everybody shut the **** up for long enough for me to feel the silence.
For once, it was as if somebody gave respect for all the dead in all the countries at all times for all reasons.
You didn't have to be well known or do anything exceptional
you were counted, even though you weren't conscious to revel in it.
I think when I die I'll be my own moment of silence.

Let's live just long enough to fear the compassionate desires of our ancestors.
Trust that no one save for the testimonials of strangers can save you from the 'coming evil'
To this end, we shall salute our own graciousness in response to someone else's hard work;
Make up a story filled with woe and peacemaker rallies depicting those formidable glory days.
Suffer no one but fools.
You know,
Fore you are wise and we shall all know someday what is to others like you obvious;
that everyone is blind but you.
There is a glazing in the eyes of a once mistress,
fallen over a reclining chair grasping at dusty bones.
This is what is left of the great ending,
nothing to clean up after, save for spittle looming over a coffee table.
The nightmare returns to me in a simple waning smile
and a sweet, but bitter to only me phrase:
"let's grow old together"

I'm so easily losing my mind
as if it wanted to leave me.
my mind wanders off.
drops to the floor unnoticed
and rolls under the couch
co-mingling with the change that fell out of my pants.