All An Illusion

All an illusion It's all an illusion. No matter where I am, I am alway just, sitting there. Unaware, with a blank stare messy hair and probably the same clothes that I always wear. Wrangler jeans, and a button up, sleeved. (period) Because, I hate T-shirts. Hate them! In fact, I'd be fine if they all just disappeared! Into thin air. I'm serious. the plague, wasting, predators, or aliens came to take em! They'd say. Or they inbred too much, and their lineage diminished intelligence forsook em. Gene pool plummeted they became disoriented, wrangled and out-competed and just sort of drifted away, They'd say, it was probably believing everything they see on the news. That led to their doom. That, and marrying too young, having litters, of far more than they could possibly support on their wage! Stupid T-Shirts And later, when documentaries are made on why their society caved. they'd say in five languages: “Stupid T-shirts” You'll see em today, at the Walmart or on display in friendly glass cases, With nothing but idiotic slogans, and quotes from bad movies “That's what she said” Or some sort of shark-cat reaching with fangs and claws up at a bikini wearin slice of pizza... They call it “Paws” Myself, I'd rather be shirtless in a game of seven card stud. I'd rather be seen strung up dangling by my hair parasailing through Canadian Territory, and mistaken for a chipmunk. Covered in varmints blood, Or spend my weekend servin sweet tea to Donald Judd. Than even be seen wearing one. No dignity in em, Just picture Grant, Lee or even Sam Houston Wearing a shirt with an arrow That reads: “I'm with Stupid”