The sad man sat down and began to write:
I wish my hands didn't hurt so much every morning
I wish the mice and black widow spiders would stop coming inside, this is my house go away you vermin
I wish winter wasn't always so cold and long and exhausting up here
I wish I could figure out how to get more attention from women and I wish that God had never spoken intoxicating liquids into existence
I wish I hadn't been born and raised in a cult, that really fucked me up good now didn't it
I wish people would clean up after themselves, why is everyone so god damn messy and lazy around here
I wish Uncle Sam would stop stealing my money every other week, I worked hard for that you asshole and you don't do crap to justify extortion
I wish I lived in a country that actually gave a shit about its citizens
I wish I didn't have to live in fear of the government's gang of dangerous brainwashed pigs harassing me, humiliating me, kidnapping me, torturing me, maybe even murdering me every day
I wish I could forget the sight of the pain I put in those bright green eyes, I've been trying but I can't seem to drink enough to kill the memories, someone give me a fucking genie lamp already I promise I can narrow this list down to three
The sad man put down his pen,
looked up from his writing,
lit a cigarette,
and leaned back for the last of his beer.
He was happy about nothing and unhappy about everything.
His vision was beginning to split but fuck if that was gonna stop him from driving to the liquor store for a few more cans of substance.
The sad man got up,
stumbled on out to his car,
got in,
and rumbled off down the road,
and I'm sure you'll be keen to read the rest of his story in the newspaper tomorrow morning.