prelude:
a moment of additional dread,
choking on your anti-intellectualist bullshit
a long document, you say?
lots of pages?
‘that sounds boooooring!’

main:
I am waiting, (almost inexplicably) waiting
to take people on a journey of self-abuse and tourism
to watch them get drunk and
to ask them awkward questions, neatly
avoiding the issue of why I won’t slam a shot with them.

to walk out into the cold world with people who won’t
– hold my hand when we cross the road
– sing along to the radio
– remember my name tomorrow.

I am waiting and while I wait I am
drowning in the miserable notion that
this is not my way.

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