I don’t like to sit alone.
I like a bottle of beer, whiskey,
or at least a glass of wine.
And all the world walks on stage
asking for the underachieved to
un-rise again from their unwanted
partners- I take them with me.
I love sitting in a room, alone
Maybe a window
I’d rather cause a problem than be a manipulated mouse leaving no memory of being, for fear of disruption and disobedience. -M. Taggart
I don’t always push the
But when I do
I rip it to fucking shreds
There is no envelope
There never was
Be you. Always.
You can’t always do what you want. But you can do now what you will. Grab the fucking book. Ignore that screaming argument pulling your metallic rage sideways and sit in your best possible spot to read words you’ve been wanting to know. Then raise your glass of I don’t give a fuck and cheers the sun going down. Because no matter what, you will either see the sun again, or it’ll never care enough to wake you up.
The brook rambled on. Pushing forward, begging the boy to continue. The boy wanted to adventure further. Though the sun had started to dip just below the tree line, he wasn’t afraid. He wondered if he had enough time. The boy listened to a voice whisper from above. ‘If we placed time into a bucket with water and soap, what do you believe might happen to the bubbles? Two options. The bubbles would become gone instantaneously because time would have run out. Or, the bubbles would last forever because time granted it so.’ The boy didn’t move. Heart pounding thinking of time. ‘What if I move now? What will happen?’ -M. Taggart copyright 2017