Sobriety II

Driving down a dark road lit by bar lights I see  a woman with unnatural eye lashes pawing at a man who is consumed in a vampiric embrace. People focus inwardly on craving, And outwardly on critique. Its easy for friends to be drunk on my laughter, its when i pour my problems they're bitter to the taste. I stand like a sober man among bartenders and drunks and wave back and forth between being a blur and just another faceless customer. They take what they want but they don't want what you give. "Everyone's got their own problems, don't kill the vibe" What selfish thing to say to a friend. Your suffering is secondary to my pleasure.
I keep trying to speak in stone cold sobriety of reality and depth. Goldfish only hear this moment and have no memory of moments beyond liquid.  How do I pour the sobriety of my mind into a worthy vessel like pure cold water in a clean glass. Why should I toss the keys to my understanding to those in no condition to drive, To those who are unskilled in how to operate heavy reasoning.  They swerve into accusations,  pit right into blame, and tout their innocence while staggering from the wreckage. Im driving down this same dark lit road now strobed in reds and blues. There is no party here any longer. Just a great disturbance of the peace.