Blame it on the...Hmmm....

(prescript: To get the most out of this post, please read is as the song," End of the Innocence," by Don Henley plays. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

You can swallow these words whole
or exhale them like second hand smoke
like words you don't want infusing your lungs
and contaminating you with their cancer inducing properties.
My friend said that he understands escapism; it can be an exciting distraction from life, but ultimately it will destroy you. I said "So either your real life will destroy you, or your distraction will destroy you."
I only know how to break things, as far as I can tell. The entropy response/reflex in me is quite keen. So I have noticed.
When it's time to make repairs, I am all for it. I am just too tired.
BUT
I do have enough energy to complain about the mess.
What do you say to the children?
The ones who look to you for comfort and advice?
I couldn't tell you how to live if I tried, kid.
I'm still working on trying to figure it out myself, with limited results.
take a number,"
and for that they will blame you; for everything, they will blame you
and call you names,
and by "names," I don't mean "Mother Dearest."

-XOXO,