I Only Wanted to Sing
It's a womb of air wrapped in clinking glasses and cheap cologne. It's starched collared shirts combined with people looking absurd. Hugs that bounce off the bar top and hop into your pocket. Head rubs every time you go to the bathroom. Blurred eyes that just want to not think. Sing at the top of your lungs. Twirl a whore around on her axis. Shake hands with the regular. Shake hands with God. Shake hands with yourself as you sit. Try to ignore the screeching laugh. Don't attempt to make the correlation. Ignore the guilt if you can. Sip and bite your lower lip as you miss someone. Shrug and tell a joke or give some rye advice. Deliver it on a platter of cock and pussy. Deliver it like you've played that game before. Act like you've been there and won. You have no idea what they will think. You have no idea how they will see you when you are here. You are lost. You are found. You are only found because you know you are lost.