“Everybody thinks that you’re a drunk girl with no content.”

No content?


With this:

My mind is a withering root, searching for a conversation thread to grab at

But flailing

I’m shy in the way that your facts and figures do not dazzle me, I don’t always read the news so I’m sorry if I don’t know the word of the day


Fact is

That I’m bored with the way that you talk

I grasp onto people who talk about change and things to come like a giant juicy fruit

But you, who pretends to realise that the world is rotting at its core

Without seeing that this core is you and I


I’m bored

And I’m tired

And I’m young

Youth is not the enemy but you make it feel like a loaded pistol

Pointed at your head yelling “DO YOU FEEL OLD YET MOTHERFUCKER”


“You’re only 22”…

And I don’t understand?

I understand that you twist fancy words into your vocabulary as if padding your social resumé with artificial sweeteners


We’re all just peacocks in an eternal mating season after all


I admit that I am self-serving alcohol driven trash but what’s your poison?

There’s no use acting high and mighty, sir

Step up to the bar and order.

“Everybody thinks that you’re a drunk girl with no content.”

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