Come on, man.

Posted: April 18, 2012 in otiose

“You look like you lost your best friend.”

I used to steal from department stores.
Then I stopped.

He asked me if I had a heroin connection.
“No,” without hesitation.
Not for you, I don’t.

They titter and flirt.
I just want to do my job and lapse back into solitude.

She told me not to be ashamed of being different.
Evidently, I’m “different.”

Thanks for that.

Turmoil must equate to shame.
Bitterness and grudges.

People used to say shit to and about me
just to try to hurt me.
I don’t think I’ve ever fully recovered from that.

Nothing changes the past.

There simply isn’t enough time to give everyone the benefit of my doubts.
Double check.

I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel.
Who I struggle to be.

Come on, man.

There’s nothing to see here.


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