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Self Pity

Taste my sorry,
half-sober existence:

I'm wearing a headset
that carries the monotony
of mundane voices
asking each other questions
about mundane subjects.
Albeit
an improvement on five
minutes ago when I could see
as well as hear,
but the only available solace
must be born of egotism
and I've left that behind?

I need a beer
and a cigarette
more than I need love,
friendship or security.

These saturated fuckers
are everywhere, they even
have the audacity to hide
it and get close.
Tonight, they party
on bad music,
company and booze,
which I should view
as a blessing
because I will be drinking
alone, absorbing the tedious
nature of humankind
drunk and unknown.
Such things are all
I have.
Written by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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