Words from the Barstool

I lasted for about as long as can be expected. I held on for dear life when it all seemed colossally futile. I let go shortly thereafter and if I'm ever given a second chance by the ill shakes of the world, it'll probably be the same tune. For now? Well, I'm like a batter with a full count knocking pitch after pitch to the waiting hands. I feel like a dazed boxer unsteady on his pins with a standing eight count, staring down my aggressor with a confused twinge in the space behind my ears. The women pile up, the expectations grow, the meaningful words get lost in the shuffle. I'm dancing around a suspended core of virtues that I subscribed to years ago and the weaving of manageable emotions into speech becomes ever more cumbersome, more transparent. I hold a pack of playing cards to the fan, let them go and watch them scatter. Somewhere else, a candle dies of natural causes. Twenty four hours peal away from an idle day, I hold my cap across my heart and the plain fear I handle like spare change eats me up. Turn the page.