screaming mad boredom
sorrow that is beyond opinion and
without ‘concrete reasoning'
eyes, like leaky faucets
“excuse me's” in a high-school hallway
filled with out of control gay retards
‘on' codeine
the lifespan of a cloud is, on average, 15 minutes long
the narrative feels written
predetermined
dead upon conception
to know what comes next is to
k** the ‘life within life'
i am describing my immediate surroundings and
feelings, because that is all
there is
lamp
animal sorrow
i realize that i am not describing my “actual” surroundings or
feelings, but that i am describing my perception of these things,
which, depending on your worldview,
could theoretically be what
is “actual”
seems like i am feeling legitimate defeat
poetry seems bleak
extreme bored feelings creating negative thought processes
in my brain like, “nothing really matters” and
“this poem is retarded”
feels like i am from a suburb of ‘cognitive dissonance' called
‘vague city'
[something]
‘tired of life'