BARS AND HEADS

Man walks into a bar. Man hurts his head. Bar remains unharmed.

Man walks into a bar. Man orders a drink. Man gets pissed. Man hurts his head. Bar remains unharmed.

Man walks into a bar. Man orders a drink. Man gets pissed. Man walks into a bar on the way home. Man doubly hurts his head. Both bars remain unharmed.

Same man. Same head. Different bar. Same consequences.

My head hurts.

My head’s been hurting for a while. The only cure seems to be a cause. This hurts my head. It’s a cycle of life and, therefore, unavoidable.

I wish I was a bar. A bar can’t do anything, but neither can I. We both seem to remain in stasis.

Bars don’t have heads.

Heads don’t have bars.

I am not a bar, but that’s where I keep going. The bars remain where they are as ever. It’s always me who seems to be doing legwork and getting my head hurt. It’s not fair.

I don’t like bars and I don’t want to be one: I wouldn’t like myself and that’s no way to be.

Hooray for headaches!!!

Boo-hiss for bars (kind of)!!!