saturday night and too drunk to care

it’s all spectacle
turning, turning
it all feels like
with nothing left to believe in
except youtube videos
convenience store pizza
and several glasses of beer
i remember those nights
and the promises that seemed
not so much
it’s hard to keep those eyes straight
i’ve smoked far too many cigarettes
wandering hopelessly
and i haven’t changed my clothes for two days
with teeth sharp and eyes blurry
i shamble onto the next adventure

it’s almost funny how
my coordination is too disrupted to type
at this moment
i don’t really care
hopefully something good will come of all this
gathering the meaningless energy
and chasing
pointless and unending pursuits
of “the normal life”
i think it’s fair to say that
drunks don’t write well
when we are cold
and what is this “we”
i keep speaking of
theres always someone else
lurking behind the scenes
with me
incomplete, and
I feel that sometimes
i am trapped in this collective
it’s hard to explain after a six pack
plus one

i know this is not much
but it’s the best i can do at this point


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