I come home tonight
one day closer to mortality
with fantasies of those I will never know
the simplest of concepts, foreign to my head
In a world full of fine wine
I am the shattered beer bottle you see on the edge of the sidewalk
I am a small slice of pie when you've eaten too much steak
I am the bruised apple in a golden batch
You will find me on clearance among the unwanted
"a movie of the week; a fucking t-shirt"
the fly in a poor man's soup
Some may say we are all special in our own way
......some are obviously wrong.
A void lurks where a dream should be
Idle days; one upon another
stacked up, stretching into the sky
reaching so high, I will never see past them
"Everybody's laughing... everybody's happy"
Should offer myself to the Sun King?
maybe I should leave this existance behind
would it matter?
would Mother Earth miss my irrelevance?
Would she even stop to notice?
For one bright moment
I fantasize that she would