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And there are the moments where we shine in our own muddled brilliance; our own sulking desperation. But what matters is the fact that we don't give a shit. Not one. Not one.
Yeah, one doesn't really know what might just come limping or barging through our back doors. Because it always gets us when we let our guard down. Perhaps it's only because we've come to see that they really are more frivolous than necessary. Because we realize that life is short and time is fleeting, so:
Mother-fucking enjoy your god-damned mother-fucking life.
Minutes tick by. Maybe there is no 'sense' in things. Maybe there's a lot of sense in nonsense.
Your mind is running with grammar, a search, a glance, a memory. Memories. A plethora of memories. Dumbstruck by our own feeble drunkenness, energized by our own subtle confusion. We are staggering, we are stampeding. Clear the way, ruffians to anger, negation and loathing are knocking at the door.
What an uncanny of guests.
We can't stay here. And those who stand in the doorway will get hurt. We are a community of organisms all thriving. Heads of our own stories. Heads colliding, bouncing off of one another, converging. It's so disarming, in midst of crisis, panic, fear, intimidation, pleasure, unrest and comma.
To love, to loose, to deceive, to laugh, to seduce, to say good bye, to welcome, to shrug, to grimace, to smile.
So don't worry. It'll be alright. We'll get wasted tomorrow. It'll be a grand time.
Yeah, one doesn't really know what might just come limping or barging through our back doors. Because it always gets us when we let our guard down. Perhaps it's only because we've come to see that they really are more frivolous than necessary. Because we realize that life is short and time is fleeting, so:
Mother-fucking enjoy your god-damned mother-fucking life.
Minutes tick by. Maybe there is no 'sense' in things. Maybe there's a lot of sense in nonsense.
Your mind is running with grammar, a search, a glance, a memory. Memories. A plethora of memories. Dumbstruck by our own feeble drunkenness, energized by our own subtle confusion. We are staggering, we are stampeding. Clear the way, ruffians to anger, negation and loathing are knocking at the door.
What an uncanny of guests.
We can't stay here. And those who stand in the doorway will get hurt. We are a community of organisms all thriving. Heads of our own stories. Heads colliding, bouncing off of one another, converging. It's so disarming, in midst of crisis, panic, fear, intimidation, pleasure, unrest and comma.
To love, to loose, to deceive, to laugh, to seduce, to say good bye, to welcome, to shrug, to grimace, to smile.
So don't worry. It'll be alright. We'll get wasted tomorrow. It'll be a grand time.