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BETWEEN AMBITION AND DESERTION
Music used to fill me with a sense of entitlement
Like I belonged somewhere in the sonic atmosphere
projecting every qualm
And every blister in my palm justified it
All for the recognition that was always on its way
Basement shows that nobody showed up for
Piss and stale beer coagulated on the floor
like some sort of fairy tale
because this was where I belonged.
It was where I saw myself being.
And the lights went off so fast that I couldn’t make out faces
I didn’t see their indifference as the cadence rolled on
and the songs that we replaced with
a war on one another
the very thing our mothers worried about
and coming true
We took the stage like a militia without a leader
dropping bombs on unsuspecting civilians in the form of
Contrary to what some people might remember
We killed ‘em all,
slaughtered them with our own indifference
as we took any drug they handed us
and passed it off as our own brilliance
It was how we knew that we did well
marching through the front lines of the interstate
dropping off somewhere toward hell
but not quite there yet, because
We were cannibals.
Feasting on one another not because we were hungry
but because we weren’t at all.
And that made me hate the rest of them
It made them hate me.
It made me hate music.
It no longer filled me with a sense of anything at all.
And I knew it was over when the van rolled back in the driveway
and nobody said goodbye.
Nobody said anything at all and nobody asked why
until now, when hindsight is 20/20
and my floors are no longer sticky.
What the fuck happened between ambition and desertion
to cause each of us
to die a little?