So Much For Saturday by John Patrick Robbins

So Much For Saturday

I sat there annoyed by music blasting from my neighbors next door.

They thought somehow filling the void of peace would make them less irrelevant than they already were.

Idiots always love the worst kind of music.
And they love to blast their bad taste for all to hear.

I wasn’t one for senseless noise.
Watching cars going really fast in a circle or hanging with like-minded idiots who thought the only subject was pussy they never had.

A good drink a nice breeze and silence were three of my favorite drugs.

It had been a few years since I had last truly been on the road.
Nothing is as perfectly void of human contact than the highway.

The faces always changed we all were heading somewhere with not a moment to spare the world was too fucking fast for me these days.

A good back road a simple detour that lasted weeks.

I’m not home now so don’t bother with the message.

I’m a million miles from here alone and happy instead of here and annoyed.

Chasing silence and finding peace.
It had been far too long since last I had been on the bourbon trail in Kentucky.

Whiskey always made for great company.

And knowing not a soul sounded fine by me.

Never be trapped by anyone or anything in this life
Let alone yourself.

Cheers

John Patrick Robbins is a barroom poet professional smart ass and fulltime drinker who's work can be read in inbetween Hangovers , Your One Phone Call. And most everywhere on the net and a few bathroom walls as well.
John Patrick Robbins is a barroom poet professional smart ass and fulltime drinker who’s work can be read in inbetween Hangovers , Your One Phone Call. And most everywhere on the net and a few bathroom walls as well.

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