Interests include time wasted, burnt bridges,
and suffocating self to bring on the spins.
If not for the folly I'd be gone and long dead --
but not if the others have words left to sputter.
And here I am trying to just meet another
that shares a few hobbies or drowns in the drink,
but all the damn while, with your face appearing,
I can't help distraction that devolves into spite.
What are you doing here? Bleeding through fingers,
set on specifics that will never exist; you'll
waste every flicker of fingers on keyboard:
complaining, succeeding, tarnishing self.