Sometimes, I feel like it’s all a bit of a fuck’all.
Sometimes, I rub my hands together in anticipation of something good happening,
Sometimes, I press the elevator button that has already been pressed,
I can’t explain why.
Sometimes, I check the date on random fire extinguishers.
Sometimes, I try not to get gas on my hands when I’m filling my car’s gas tank at the gas station.
Sometimes, I eat the whole pizza.
Sometimes, I get so mad I could spit, that I spit.
Sometimes, people meet the poor expectations I hold of them.
Sometimes, I wish that people complaining, lose a week of their lives for every complaint they make.
Sometimes, I am paralyzed by my own befuddlement.
Sometimes, I really don’t care how you feel.
Sometimes, I just want it to be quiet.
Sometimes, too many people have too many opinions about too many things.
Sometimes, I fall asleep while I’m sitting there waiting for the proper time to go to sleep.
Sometimes, people ask too much of me.
Sometimes, I think you’re an asshole.
Sometimes, I need some time.
Sometimes, I feel like an old crushed Cuban cigar, illegally purchased and smuggled over the border from Canada, and kept in a baggie for enjoyment at a later time, that due to time and forgetting has been reduced to unsmokable, but unable to be thrown away because of the sentimental value attached to it.