Dont’ Try

And if it should matter what i say these days,the point is pointless and seems to be a never ending stream of nonsense,
as romantic, angry and moody
it is all the same jumbled mess that i call my mind
the inventory i take dredging through the shit is almost like a bad garage sale there is nothing of any value or that 2 dollars for the handful of buttons that once meant something to a child
so if you should see me ,just cross the street or move to the other side of the pub
i will keep my head down not bothering to talk
my pint will keep my company and counsel in brief conversation
the bartender will be my deckhand as i sail through the heart of a saturday night not looking at the compass for the way home…
the flags forever at half mast


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