Abulia
wisky
bitter, defined, cultured
liquid, but it is not moist
a fantastic high velocity burn all the way down
he loves it,
I hate it.
"it is delicious!"
"dont you want any?"
facetious question
he knows my answer
him drinking, smoking, laid back
embodying the epic image of a man
i facetiously live through him
if there were no cost i would be like him
accepted,honored, savvy, free
the image is spontaneously shattered
begging for fudge and tacos once he is drunk
embodying the epic image of a child
rigging up toys from gadgets and empty glases
such a waste,
such a fucking waste.
in my constant confusion of who i am
he can effortlessly become
but he is not the type of man i want to be
if i could be a man at all.
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