Drifting through

Drifting through

Time lines

It is unconscious

A circularity

Bandying with facts

Twisting their meaning

Moving from one story

To the next

Never still

Thinking in words

Making movies

Storyboards and pictures

Pulling them apart

Moping for want of difference,

Wasted time

Believing there can be.

Drunkards, philosophers

Army dreamers

With too much to feel sorry about

Lost boys and girls

Still trying to find a way out

Are we all so

Absorbed in self

As to pass the time

Composing retrospectives.

The wasted years

Were all that was

So many people dissatisfied

The self-disabled

Drinking games

Leaving a sour taste

A sore throat

A ruinous headache.

Too many nights spent

Trying to remember

Living to forget.

Why drink at all

When the sadness

Drowns out any gladness

You might feel.

It was ever thus

For some.

The world-weary

Smile in the corner

As the toerags

And blowhards

Fight over nothing

Worth believing.

Every morning

Another day in

Paradise

Lost, with little learned

And the search goes on

For a little piece of meaning

Less spoken

A token of solitude

Without the insistent voice

Complaining

Of the wasting

Of the years

The could have beens

Should have saids

And would have hads.