you may have decided
a while ago -
while sitting at home
on a friday night
starring at your
smoke-stained
ceiling -
that you're just
another bundle of bones
and that you'll
just carry on
disappointing people
until the day
the death does you well-
because nobody cares anyway.
but i'm sitting here
listening to your
fake nervous laughter
as if it were a
symphony
and i couldn't
care
more.