Be Sober.
Be sober?
I once heard to be always drunk (here) and that that’s all there was to it for it was the only way to make it through the day.
Everyday.
I don’t believe that.  I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.  I don’t want to believe that,
For there is something to be said about being sober.
Am I burdened, Charles Baudelaire?  Am I hell-bent on being burned, Charlie Bawdy-lair?
Now, now, now, you may look and say,
“Why the long disposition?  What’s this manner of inquisition?  When did I make this decision?  Who slandered me with this derision?
Where is the path to Righteousness and soulful exploration?  How do I find this lonely road to salvation?”
Are Wine, Poetry and Virtue what I should be aspiring to,
the only things to get me through my days?
Are there not other ways to get me through my days?
Do I need to look to the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock and everything under the sun to find the answers so that I may be not undone?
Fuck that.
I’ll look to myself.
I’ll look to my beautiful, sober reflection,
This 27 year old bag of memorable collections
Who has not, and will not, and shall not be a slave to anything, or anyone, at any time.
I will not be complicit to this woeful, spiteful, “mournful solitude” bullshit.
I will be sober.
I will be happy.
So here’s a salute to you, Charlie.
Be in tune.  Be in touch.  Be involved.  Be here.
Be drunk?
Be sober.

Dzemma ban

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