Being
beyond which an urge becomes a fist
you are simply attached to more
than a calm night sitting on the bench
with a bottle of Jameson. It's okay to envy
the couples who bubble past. Who doesn't
desire such obliviousness? Go, interrupt
their conversation, if you don't
care. Or do you value the noble ideal
that denial offers? The bold injury
we choose to inflict remains
nothing but a pulse along our skull's
impenetrable oddness. Really,
it's okay. You have work in the morning.
Drama never stays long anyway.
Another slug's a better dilemma
to nurse. There's a show at 10
you could make, the scratch and scream
of electrified strings a lullaby for a brain stoned
by the idiocy of hormones.
Trip off the bench that cradles
a cause for regrets you'll hate.
Find your way back to the empty sheets
that want only your ink to open
to a masterpiece. Heat that pizza
sitting in its box. Watch something
on television. You're not a ghost yet.
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