the house reeks of gunpowder
and quiet is out of the question.
thousands of dollars, up in smoke,
clouding the air to ward off evil spirits.
couldn't help but think,
"what a perfect night for random acts of violence..."
yet i'd rather stay indoors.
ignoring the calls as to where i am, where i'm not.
what i am, but mostly what i'm not.
saddened by the fact i'm not sad not to celebrate.
another night, another year not worth mentioning.