I’m a man of little importance. I know that.
It’s cold and I’m shivering from the rain. My hair is soaked and I really can’t find a reason to care. Tequila has warmed me much the same way that a supposed lover would. Theorist, foolish half assed theorist.
The tears pool and roll back into my eyes, bringing the grease from a night spent drinking heavily at the local watering hole, right back into the eye and only exacerbating the problem. You see what’s to cry about in a world gone plastic? Tears are organic and have no goddamned place amongst this crowded room. You can always tell the authenticity of a bar by the size of the bathroom mirrors. If they are big… no drunk man has tread there. Keep your bitch beer and piss watered mixed drinks. I’ll stick to the place I don’t have to see my own face.
There’s no sense in nonsense and no goddamn reason in treason. The heart can break and beat all in the same moment but you can never breathe heavy and dream deep. It’s like falling through a world of cold salt water and razor blades and yet you don’t dare make a sound for fear of complaining. No one believes it’s real. Must be a fuckin’ gimmick. Someone please explain this punchline. I don’t understand this joke.
I have to believe… somewhere fuckin’ buried inside…. that a place exists.
My eyes flutter open and I see blue and feel fire. The heat peels away this frozen shell that has encased me for far too long and my pale skin is exposed to the fire of the rising sun. Crimson fire turns back into pale blue as the green hidden beside the sun pulls me along to the tilting rhythm of the rain.
I’m a man of little importance. I am completely fuckin’ aware of this scorching fact.
Fuck me right?