Saturdays

I hate saturdays
Saturdays are just
a reminder of how much
of nothing I am
I love the quietness
and I hate that I love it
My love for the quietness
is the reason I have
all this nothingness
I’m not moving
I’m just withering
I’m a leaf
hanging on to a branch
in late autumn
I will never find
what saturdays can bring
I will die alone
on a monday morning
A day like any other
A nothing day
for a nothing life

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The pink and cool jacket

I’ve tried countless times to write a poem that describes the feeling of losing you to death
It just can’t be done
How can more than a decade of friendship be summarized like that
Impossible
All I can say is that I miss you
I sleep beside your pink and cool jacket every night
I keep it by my side in the day
I wish my time could come sooner
Maybe we could meet then

It’s dark but it’s alright

It’s dark tonight, no moon
The smoke from the incense rises
The candle light lights up the smoke
The jazz playing is innovative and crazy
It helps me focus and think and create

I washed everything today
Almost all of my clothes
My pillow and cover and my blanket

There’s a glass just to my right
It’s filled with soda, ice and a lime
And I’m about to edit my book

I’ve got to get up early tomorrow
For work
I’m going to be so damn run down tomorrow

But right now, things are alright

The people on the morning train

The morning train is full of normal people
They smell like all kinds of perfume
But their perfumes all say one thing;
“I’m professional”
These people have normal jobs
They have families and hobbies
When I was little,
I expected to be one of them
That was the future that was portrayed for me
I would be a part of society
“What the fuck?” said society. “You’re not quite normal. Time to fuck you up.”
“Great,” I said. “I’ll turn it into a funny book. Maybe that’ll get me rich enough to circumvent you.”

Legal addictions

Legal addictions are the ones profitable to companies
It’s an investment for a growing economy and therefore “happiness”
It’s all fine, it’s ok
As long as you hit your deadlines and pay the shipping costs
If your addiction takes you down there’s a problem
A money problem
Disguised as a moral problem
If it makes you a bad worker and consumer it’s a sin more severe than all the seven
That’s why, if you have such an addiction, you are not helped but doomed

Why am I alive?

I want to do nothing
To do that I need money
To get money I need to work
To get good money I need good work
To get good work I need good education
To get good education I need to study
All I wanted to do was nothing
Steel against the temple is a quicker way to achieve that goal than all this other shit
How the fuck have I not done it yet?
How am I holding on? And why?

Couch is home

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