Drunk tales…

I love to be funny. But, all that comes out is a half baked sarcasm. 

Not many have the brains to understand the innocuousness of it. 

Fucking little shit birds take offence. For my anxious self, isn’t so people friendly. 

No, I don’t give a darn about your fragile little self. 

In my perspective, I’m more important. 

Attempts to empathize are a shamble in vain. 

Why’d I pretend to care anymore?

I don’t have the tendency or responsibility to pretend to be normal. Shit. We aren’t. 

All of us. Individual fucking selves are as beautiful as we are. 

So, enjoy your being. And, don’t meddle with lives bastards. 

I might be a drunk self. 

But, am a honest self. 

Seeking pleasure not pain. 

If you can’t see my pain. Nor pleasure. 

Fuck off to your sad little attic. That you call heart. 

Life’s more than pain…

Life’s an art…

Waiting to be painted….

With all the positivity you can muster…


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