When he sits alone, there are the things that he won’t say

To anyone

But those may be the things that create a tomorrow 

Even if he can’t remember what they were

At the bar

There a lot of lonely people

What are they here for?

Connection, drowning, satisfaction, sadness

What are they looking for

And is it the same?

Its not all the same

Is he lonely

Sitting at the bar


Maybe he likes it





But possibly a hunger different than theirs 

But does he care

He can play that game

Fill their need

Drink his own

Pouring out more than he has 

Not that he wants any of it, he doesn’t want to take it home.

But he needs it in his soul. In his mind. In his imagination. In his life.

But its not life

He had to learn that

There is life that must go on

And then there is an ongoing education of emotions and external circumstance

That he cannot live


He could.

It would not give him what he seeks


Too many glasses 


His glasses


Looking for fulfillment

But he keeps drinking

What else can he do with the glasses 

Watch them

Save them

Ignore them

No he has to drink

Its what glasses were made for


That no one is seeking

What he has to give

Who the fuck cares

Its just an experiment

Everyone is looking for something

What are you looking for?

And will you find in at the bar

Or in a glass

Or in her conversation

Its what glasses were made for

To see the intentions 

That cannot be seen

Or heard.

In the naked air

But is it the truth

Or does it even matter

When truth is just another story

That you must see behind the glasses

Or see at the bottom 

When glasses turn empty

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