Visitors. Drinkers. Not critical thinkers. Stealing time. Stealing life.
Sitting around on hand me down couches. Drinking from cans. Describing their kills. Dandelions. Brain cells.
More cans. More smoke. No sleep. No joke. Can’t sleep for snoring. Bite guard for grinding.
Wake up. It feels. The same as last week. Another adventure. I just want to sleep.
Standing in circles. Dumb-dumb talk. Game of Thrones and Costco shop. I just want to catch and throw. Baseballs you know.
Another zombie walks with me. Same day. Same streets. Fitch and Abercrombie.
A cup of Jav. Then two or three. Read the news and blogs. Nothing for me.
A laptop. Craptop. I need my PC. It used to mean something to me.
Laundry. Fold. Put away. Another cycle. Another day.
Kid is sick. What a pity. Anxious like me.
Welled up eyes. Like a beer can. Empty inside.
Even on the internet. I don’t try to hide.
Talking to strangers. Isn’t it wild.
Maybe this blog is like me.
Like geraniums to E.T.
When it goes offline.
So does he.