Darkened Room

Ping, Ping, Ping, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The rhythm of the base fills the darken room and I sit here
alone with my scotch, and I love and hate the blues.
Because we it makes me feel, and think about
bad times that turned into bad dreams;
and failed relationships; and lost loves;
and needy lovers with agendas. But I listen because I love that--

Ping, Ping, Ping, Boom, Boom, Boom.

It matches the rhythm of my soul,
which seeks out a space in that darkened room that is my mind--
which is currently closed to visitors and guest
due to lack of human interest--
So I lift my glass to toast my reefer,
the two together makes it easy to stay in this darkened room and
refer to those youthful hopes and dreams
of something better out there.

All the time knowing that it will never be be better than--

Ping, Ping, Ping, Boom, Boom, Boom.

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