Sore Thumb

My life isn’t that interesting

and neither is yours.

I have nothing to say

and there’s nothing I want to hear.

Popping peanuts and

sipping a beer as if it were

Mana from Bacchus,

you drone on about

your day,

your worries,

and your hopes.

Me, I’m thinking

of my pillow and how

satisfying

tomorrow morning’s shit is going to be.

Yes, I should have done you a solid

and stayed at home with

my booze and

my worries.

But I always get dragged out.

Don’t get me wrong,

I’m not apologizing

for being me.

I just simply wish

You would

let

me

be.