December 15, 2009
dirty dishes
This depression Soothes my boredom And seeps into the cracks in the walls Into the floorboards, It fills up my time. With the excuse for this great lot of repetition And blank existence This dull procedure that we go through. Waking up and eating Scrubbing the dirt out of my hair. Maybe chatting with the girl I live with. Going into work 15 minutes late. Picking up ...
touches
I went to my old lover’s house. He’s crying as well in his studio apartment On his couch that touches his bed that touches his television In his kitchen living room. I’m not sure why, But I wiped his tears off his face. I think I was trying to fuck him. I kissed him and his lips felt Different. And I felt nothing.
calm
I like not having eternal torment. Eating lunch on a corner street. Nowhere to be.