She thinks I'm a righter... I must be doing something... write ?
"They" do not exist here, "everyone" is here.
In the future, as tonight, I just might sleep in piss.
As soon as It can pass for failure.
There is a little something extra, ringing in "our" ears.
Am I, serious half the time, able to tell the real from the fantasy...?
Why do I find myself waving my arms around, erratically, so often?
Are you kidding me? I know people from all those bands.
Comma, question mark, .... Do I have to explain it to you?
Maybe language is the dragging of nothing I have learned, into everything I am learning.
Don't be concerned if you can't make it to the end of the...
I don't know what I am talking about either.
Should you mistake this for poetry, consult me. Consult me.
Within these lines, I am neither glorifying myself, nor thee gory details.
This is just the life "we" lead.
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