On Loneliness and Bars

the loud and lonely are the worst, raving at the world from their spot of isolation in plain sight
(oh, not the worst, only the worst, because they loudly force the issue to the forefront)
“Lightman! a spot on this poor blighter before the cane comes crawling”

the quiet lonely at least have their dignity of silence, at least, at least
when all the murmurings in the world lead to the same dull thud, oh yes
it’s no wonder some seek solace in the sole soothings of some soi-disant demiurge:
you’re not alone, some omnipotent being wishes you well! and waits with bated breath upon your sweet susurrations

as for me, I’d rather much maunder through my old hallways of thought, bewaring bugaboos, of course
still sometimes those crawling creepers keep coming round, not enough bug spray here, apparently
outside, it’s nothing but exits from my center stage, says everyone

and everyone rolls on down the road, singing sweetly softly
to me…?

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