Accusations.

.
.
If the songs pop, they fit, and I realize?  I have to play them.  Actually they have nothing, for my part, to do with me.  Might even have been true, to some degree, but long ago.  If it was still true she would already have gotten her fifteen minute to three hour shake, and a baby if a certain one.  It's how and all I used to do... after my first real went away.  Now, which of two possible women is feeling dry, sore, and let go, I can't be sure.  One still, always had, a chance.




Yeah.  Mostly not.  With one there was only ever confusion on her part.  The other was never interested.  There were no games.  No one would ante except those who weren't wanted... in the various potential games.  It's... not about me.  It isn't even my story.  I watch, notice, like all visitors.

Get what you give?  Can't get what you want, if you can get what you need?  Or...  Can't get no satisfaction?  I... don't know.  I know what I want, what I need, and what is available.  It's looking like snake-eyes.  I... just... I notice I'm not the only one.  Grumble, point, hate, snarl, it won't do anyone any good.  Join the audience, say a prayer for the one(s) in pain.  Really?  Just enjoy the show or find a happier, better, place to be.

Innit.