Their are boxes
and boxes,
and it's all
piling up
over time, over lots of time.
There's a lot of it.
It's all useless,
and I don't care about it.
And it sits there
in my stomach,
and it mumbles things.
I don't think that it's in a
particularly
good mood.
Maybe because I don't care about it.
It sags,
and every time I walk by it
I think of
her.
And it's taking up space.
*"What the ****
are you still doing here?"*
yelling, I'm yelling now.
*"You are useless, and I wish
that you would go away."*
But she doesn't go away.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:45 PM UTC
Their are boxes
and boxes,
and it's all
piling up
over time, over lots of time.
There's a lot of it.
It's all useless,
and I don't care about it.
And it sits there
in my stomach,
and it mumbles things.
I don't think that it's in a
particularly
good mood.
Maybe because I don't care about it.
It sags,
and every time I walk by it
I think of
her.
And it's taking up space.
*"What the ****
are you still doing here?"*
yelling, I'm yelling now.
*"You are useless, and I wish
that you would go away."*
But she doesn't go away.
© Benjamin H. Anthony 2010