Bar Stool Damnation

Murmurs rise to levels, screamed.
In a room full of untended dreams,
The television rattles out useless news.
While patrons discuss whom angered whom.

Time passes in return, wasted.
Clouds shuffle lazily across the sky,
Carrying the hope of today away,
Engrossed in drink and shallow words.

Don’t have time, none at all, pursued.
Time budgeted, monopolized, and pushed away,
Maybe another day, maybe tomorrow, tonight,
Dream dusty maligned with rusted disrepair.

Refuse dreams, buried in planning, thoughtfully.
Seeking hope, lost in their own way,
Never started, never dared, why?
Because life is standing, between here and there.

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