Couch is home; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

I sleep on the couch all the time
But I do have a bed in the other room
The bed is for good days in life
That’s why I never sleep there no more
Passing out on the couch
Dying alone on the couch
Movie dialogues are lullabyes
I’ll die to the credits at the end
At least I ate some pasta
Made by my own fucking hands
Entertainment and movies and couch
It’s killing me slower than time
And people would kill for my life
So why can I not be okay?
Maybe my couch has the answer

Walls are friends; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

I feel invisible
Sometimes it’s nice
Most times it’s dull
Boring and dumb
Scrolling on my phone
A meme, a video
Nothing is new
Even if it’s new
What is the point
Doing by yourself
I’m in distress
The walls must know it
But they only stare

Making pasta; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

I haven’t made pasta for a while
I only had the dried ones to eat
I had no energy or will
To make that pasta dough by hand
Today I’m making pasta again
A sign that I’m back on track

Stranger world; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

When someone you love has passed away
Your little world is standing still
The rest of the world is moving on
It’s like your brain puts you in a dream
Nothing is feeling real anymore
Maybe it’s to lessen the shock of our loss
But it doesn’t really help because you know that it’s real
As you enter a new and stranger world

Junk food and spears; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

I’m eating junk food in the dark
I’m crying because I don’t feel
A multiplayer game is on
But I don’t wanna play it anymore
I need to fuck myself up
Because I don’t plan on surviving
An accident or a gun to the head
Whichever is fine by me
The spear is aged and dull
And I don’t see the point
I used to, but not right now

TV light; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

During the night is when the nothingness comes
There’s nobody there to be with me except the TV light
Sometimes video games, sometimes a movie or a show
Whatever it is, imitation of life
Not life itself
A TV won’t talk to you, a TV won’t touch you
I guess I need those so called ‘people’ I’ve heard so much about

Here’s me reading my poem

Hope you enjoyed the poem and the reading of the poem. Stay away from those TV lights and people and everything all together and you’ll be fine, I think

Going home; a poem by Andreas Blaustein

I can’t go home because I know
when I come home it will begin the end
The moments fly into a cage of memory
and there it stays and never grows anymore
I’ll sit and think and I will be blind
as life is being lived by someone else
Moments end and life continues forth
This life is moving, I can feel it moving
It fucking hurts, but now I’m going home

Click play to here me read the poem out loud