The Show

The tent was well up, visible to everyone, why did I doubt a show was in order?

Chicken, first, or the egg?
Was the show for a reason, or there were reasons for the show?
Did it come from within, or from without, in other words?

One thing's for certain: what I evade during my waking hours isn't left behind.
It just sleeps.
Then to assault me when I lower my guard, be it willingly or else.

To puke, now, would surely be misunderstood.
Sure as hell, though, alcohol wouldn't be the reason.

Fuck you too, dear, fuck you too.