Mar 2017
it’s only 10pm in fact not even 10pm
i’ve been home for the day the evening the night
i had to leave work early at 1:30pm because i couldn’t do it
i don’t even know what it was
but i couldn’t do it
i couldn’t talk to anyone
i couldn’t talk to you
i couldn’t think straight or focus or even write out my name
what is the point of all your confusion all your pondering
keeps lifting me higher, lifting me higher
and nonsense songs play in the background
i’m not even sure i know where i am anymore, anyone
out there i gave a confession
something you didn’t need to know
something you wish you didn’t know
stop popping balloons before they’re blown
stop popping balloons before they’re blown
stop googling “saddest movies” whenever you’re bored
stop looking at lists online that might as well be titled “don’t watch this”
but you do anyway
you will always anyway
what does it mean when your only goal is to have your fingers go numb
to have your vision start to blur
when you see more of yourself in someone else than you ever thought possible
beds turning to rocking chairs
a perpetual haze
who even thinks before they write anymore
who even thinks right anymore
go to bed earlier and the sun will shine all day
close your **** door
the screeching can be heard from the street
the screeching can be heard in the street lamps
the bed is falling off to one side
the bed isn’t falling on my side
one hundred years ago this was a midlife crisis
now it’s just a desperate attempt to keep going and going
my sweater is curled up in a ball in the corner
waiting to keep me warm
as if it could ever keep me warm
the books like fallen leaves are strewn all over
a half read chapter where i say “yes” then stop forever
i’m terrified of how much strength it’ll take
of how long the “to do” list is going to be
when i look it over one last time and tell people that went well
there’s not enough and too much all inside of me
a void is a cliche word but it’s there and it’s swimming with dust
everything seems ironic
everything seems like some crazy twisted comparison
but it’s just the bottle
it’s just the haze
it’s just time for bed
then it’s a new day
a new week
a new something
i’ve been home for the day the evening the night
i had to leave work early at 1:30pm because i couldn’t do it
i don’t even know what it was
but i couldn’t do it
i couldn’t talk to anyone
i couldn’t talk to you
i couldn’t think straight or focus or even write out my name
what is the point of all your confusion all your pondering
keeps lifting me higher, lifting me higher
and nonsense songs play in the background
i’m not even sure i know where i am anymore, anyone
out there i gave a confession
something you didn’t need to know
something you wish you didn’t know
stop popping balloons before they’re blown
stop popping balloons before they’re blown
stop googling “saddest movies” whenever you’re bored
stop looking at lists online that might as well be titled “don’t watch this”
but you do anyway
you will always anyway
what does it mean when your only goal is to have your fingers go numb
to have your vision start to blur
when you see more of yourself in someone else than you ever thought possible
beds turning to rocking chairs
a perpetual haze
who even thinks before they write anymore
who even thinks right anymore
go to bed earlier and the sun will shine all day
close your **** door
the screeching can be heard from the street
the screeching can be heard in the street lamps
the bed is falling off to one side
the bed isn’t falling on my side
one hundred years ago this was a midlife crisis
now it’s just a desperate attempt to keep going and going
my sweater is curled up in a ball in the corner
waiting to keep me warm
as if it could ever keep me warm
the books like fallen leaves are strewn all over
a half read chapter where i say “yes” then stop forever
i’m terrified of how much strength it’ll take
of how long the “to do” list is going to be
when i look it over one last time and tell people that went well
there’s not enough and too much all inside of me
a void is a cliche word but it’s there and it’s swimming with dust
everything seems ironic
everything seems like some crazy twisted comparison
but it’s just the bottle
it’s just the haze
it’s just time for bed
then it’s a new day
a new week
a new something
