Indifference...

The dive...just a bee hive filled with honey.  Loss of money and wasted time has me thanking crime I don't need to work for this sh*t.  Makes me think I've blown it.  If only I'd known it maybe I would've done different...maybe not.  Spilt milk curdled, the blonde, the brunette now hurdled doesn't mean sh*t without flame.  It's all just the same.  The same that came for me when I thought to feel the real and found empty.  So if here is a cry for plenty then why oh why call this "indifference" on my pieces list?  Because maybe I no longer give a sh*t if you walk or sit, swallow or spit...if you stick around...or even quit.  Maybe I'm just over it...