I didn't ask for your company, and yet you sit here and speak with me as if my time is worth your consumption. Your voice drones on, enveloping me in a cloud of my already drunken foggy thoughts. Please, spare me the details. I don't wish to hear any more of the "meaning of life", the reasons why I must keep faith, or how my sorrows could never be releived with a glass of intoxicating poison. I mentally slam my forehead into the old wooden bar table repeatedly, questioning your existence.
Authors Note
This is my original work, from notebook to here. Lovely words only please, and don't take what isn't yours. Thank you. Archives
January 2017
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