There’s no room in my life, for anything
I might actually like
I might actually want
It’s a kind of exhaustion, my activities
There’s no hopefulness left
To think about anything; like, for instance,
What it would look like to be … anyhow, who cares.
Things fall into routine
They become easy
Then they become too easy to give up
I wonder about the validity of
Hanging out, with anyone, it’s a type of laziness
This inability to assess
What the next 2o years of my…anyhow, who cares.
Is it a sin, I wonder, to let another wait?
They formulate ideas about me
I didn’t say anything! Honestly. I’m just existing; listing
My life has become the penance, punishment aplenty
Frankly, I’m owed a refund
I think I seriously think that. Early enough in the morning
Anyhow, whatever.
God forgive me, I’ll die suddenly
An angel will say, ‘so, how was it, your time on earth?’
And I’ll wish I hadn’t let it get that way
I’ll regret not turning the wheel on these days
I’ll say, ‘no I didn’t find..’
She’ll say, ‘oh you were right beside him three times in a single day
You walked straight past him on another chance
And then the last time, you blanked him in a café.’
And that will be my second death,
That will be my second death
A life too full of shit
Eating, walking, shopping, watching TV, giving obligatory company
To find out too late, I missed a chance at real happiness.
Too busy to listen to my head,
Really listen clearly, and
Too ashamed to listen to my heart
Listen properly.
