Penny on the Train Track

It’s been confirmed that going out and pursuing the extro-pleasures  doesn’t do anything. Extro-pleasures meaning all the outwardly social debaucheries, the changes one would undergo in order to appease the hunger for life. I haven’t said “no,” in over two weeks to a single invitation, though, keeping me moving, has still left me feeling idle. I still find myself every night shaking hands with a pen and pad, only to write of the hollowness that lingers. Sure, I’ve more than I can eat on my plate, but not a single one of those bits have persuaded me into purchasing the meal. T’would be a commitment I would hope to have kept the receipt for.

No, I don’t suffice monetarily, and think and hope that love would pay the difference, but I suppose that would be the one modernist idealism in me that exudes. Besides that, I’m old fashioned and don’t know what Lil’ Wayne or T-Pain’s songs pertain to. I love like it’s 1959, and it is and has been proven to be beyond my control. I’ve dabbled in the new millenia, but it simply does not entice me as much as the advertisements claim it would. You can keep your automatic machine guns, but I’ll always prefer the .44. Hit it hard and make sure I shoot to kill, not a buck-shot and hope I hit something.

I twitched in the presence of a long lost old friend of mine tonight. He saves lives for a living now as an EMT. One of my best friend’s teaches music to young overconfident highschool students. Another, Is a culinary expert catering to celebrities who are capable of paying a college tuition for a bowl of macaroni and cheese. I stand and see all the things that I could be, but I know will leave me feeling emptier than a can of coke after a long day at the beach. I want to feel as full as the glass of lemonade that belongs to the gentleman that’s washing his car in his drive-way in Pooptown, California. All he has to think about is what to write next and when his lovely wife is going to come home so they can start dinner. Then maybe a few drinks with the friends. Work should stay at work, you don’t take it with you back home as a pillow, you leave it where it is so it doesn’t make you snore so loudly when you’re next to your lover and best friend.

You’ve had your fun in the yard with the local kids, now it’s time to get in the shower to clean yourself off in the bath I’ve run. Put on the sundress I’ve laid out on the bed and come downstairs for dinner. You can play again tomorrow, and I’m not opposed to joining you this time.


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