Most of the times
I neglect the truth away.
Never wanting to disturb
the calm waters.

The coming of age is over, spoiled
now that I have all the answers.
It's all coffee in the kitchen
with my feet tapping anxiously
sitting and waiting for the dead
working hours to move on its own,
dragging me away from freedom.

I never get control of my life,
honesty is a misunderstanding
and
depression is a misunderstanding,
a misleading coping mechanism
to slack a day or two in bed,
reading books that I'll never finish,
reading Bukowski poems
that does nothing but
make me embrace
the most comfortable
negativity there is.

Not doing anything at all,
just waiting for nothing
to happen until they move
me on another spot
that needs covering.

This individuality lacks
the guts to move independently,
lacks the guts to burn bridges
in exchange for a better path,
for a clearer space to breathe
where my state of mind is not questioned,
misunderstood or left untreated.

For ****'s sake,
relatives, strangers, friends, lovers,
corporations and unwanted
entitlements, responsibilities
just leave me alone.

I have been sober for months now,
and all you care about is
throwing all the things
that you think
is best for
me.

Well I could use a drink,
it's the best thing for me now,
that's for sure.