Without any effort at all, the thought of ‘why bother’ sails across the forefront of my mind. Matters not, the cause. It goes along its way just the same. Sometimes it passes. Gone just as quick as arrived and not much afterthought, if any at all given towards where or why it went.
pt. I mayhaps I don’t belong and, the illusion that ever did fades and aches its way away from here maybe, I cling to that what never been the never was, intoxicating and framing the disappoint delusional woes, the dolled up faces wasted, on the eyes of me pt. II alone, although full room around…
It’s been a while. That’s just the way it goes. Sometimes. No need to fret about it.
The exquisite ideologies found ‘round the barroom. Everyone is a critic. A poet. A genius and star. Everyone’s an asshole, if they are to be seen by the right person. Likely been this way since humans first started getting together to drink poison. Another wildly interesting phenomenon in and of itself.