It's been a good few days because it has been so quiet. The neighbor hasnt blown any gas in my window lately and the cat hasn't puked in my rug.
I took a long bath and played with myself and played pink floyd "echoes live in Pompeii"
I laughed at someone i saw on my screen and gave him a thumbs up and i cried when i saw a silverback crying for momma.
It was a good day, quiet.
I had the heater on and jammed on my guitar and took a fish oil.
Then i walked down the road and didnt say hi to ryan because he's a goof. All he does is play pool and smoke *** and brag about his obese GF with her 2 kids that he willingly lets stay with him. Good deal man.
I make it back home and call my dad.
"I'm dying, I have anxiety" i say
He calms me down as usual. I lay back in bed and watch my phone. I clack away and now here i am writing this poem with nothing more to recount.
It is quiet, if only i actually listened and
enjoyed it rather than always write about it