Macerate

Is the act of drinking coffee coughing,
On myself shitting, at myself scoffing,
Scary are the stereotypes I believe in, scarier are how accurate they really are,
Disagree?, oblivious like buck toothed inbreeds at the backwoods hillbilly bar,
Don't let the bright sunny days confuse you, it's a dark world around us,
No flying to heaven, amazing how the vast vileness doesn't ground us,
For every good deed basking in the limelight, there's 20 bad ones hiding in nearby shadows,
Life is like a TV channel, no remote and stuck watching a plethora of perpetually bad shows,
It's warm out there, so why do I feel the chills,
Every situation I try to balance, but the milk always spills,
My hands rub my face, my face rubs the coarse atmosphere,
Sand papered from every direction until, poof, I disappear,
And like that the film reel ends, no credits roll, no audience claps,
Nothing more can be explained, no more destinations, no more maps...

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