from bed, at a memorial (excited to edit)

i can be obnoxious

i don’t mean it

i’m sorry

it’s just

i walk abruptly into a situation no room for natural transition. i can’t think too much, that comes later. i burst in the scene people are reacting. i hit go mode and i’m not sure if i’m acting, or awkwardly stumbling to let me out as you watch and listen politely without doubt (i think), i hear a laugh my heart slows 

you’re still following my fast finger flows 

you hold my cup when i ask 

letting me somehow bask 

in this anxious moment task of what do i do. 

i keep doing and talking, finding not stalking. 

another head nod.

holy shit are people wishing i’d quit, is this not what we do here? 

who the fuck is defining this. give me a set of rules. oh god, i just commented on a little bit of drool that started to pool on an old mans stool my eyes dart. ugh. here i go again telling you about the death of someone else i know. i stop. ask a question. i tell myself, that’s right, ask them something. i wish i could get a beer. we know what that’d bring and i can’t afford those mirrors. somehow this reality mess i make in front of you is clearer. or it’s just me you have to accept without the constant debt of asking what i did that day or night and accepting this plight that i don’t know what is socially acceptable. people smile. i think i’m doing this? be honest, am i fucking weird. i was actually curious about the smell of your beard. do people watch this show gripped in fear? back to now, those last thoughts vibrate in me as i make the three foot stumble to another acknowledging face. that was a good one, right? you responded when i asked what you’re doing tonight and then i lost track and started speaking about my life at eight and the age of reason, was that six? my dad and Styx, it was my brother’s first concert you know, mine was lou reed. 
i couldn’t remember

if the age of reason is six

you were wondering where we left off after that last tangent, right? 

i scare people away talking about the feeling of paper bags and whether time really lags or do we consider where else we could be. do you guys talk about me? is this an abnormality. because when i leave the social situation i’m high and think i followed my intuition to bring people at ease. 

night comes 

before i fade 

i consider (over and over) if i offended you with the way i made it loud when someone laughed at this panic. i can’t go back. maybe it’s ok. there was a lot of smiling. i go back. until it stops. 

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