nate . . .. nate. you know those wishes you make into the morning mirror? ride off into the swingsets. i need i psychotic break. poke me. maybe baby you poke me. my head is screaming and my lobes are gripped in fists. someone has a nail in the dent on top of my head the soft spot where pressure hurts. my head is. this line runs down the right side of my head, behind my ear, my jaw aches, somehow loops a thread around my eye and tightens. my right eye becomes useless. i can't do anything right now. my guitar is always out of tune. i read the same news over and over again. the fifteen minute break website cycle over and over again. nothing new, read it anyway. i don't want to read. i don't want to be sober. i don't want to watch a movie. i don't want to go anywhere. i don't want to work. i don't want to play. there is nothing i want to do right now. nothing. i should put some music on and just sit on the couch. but i don't really want to. nate.. . nate nate i'm not sure if that's me. i can argue any side. no passion. my moral fiber dissolves. i can justify anything. i can justify leaving, i can justify staying. i want to. nothing. i wish i was laid off. i don't. she makes me smile in the morning. i wake up at five am. it exists, five am. i should get up then. stand on the deck in my boxers. drink my coffee. piss into the creek. dry my wings. but why. is the company going to make it? who knows. do i care? i don't. do i? i don't know. i don't think i do. so why do it? i don't know. do i enjoy it? maybe. do i enjoy the money? maybe. would i enjoy something else? something more? something less? something different? what are you afraid of nate? who do you owe? and what? who has to die before you realize what you should be doing? why is it always something epic that has to push you over the edge? what is it? you fucking pussy. i don't want anything. i'm a prisoner. |
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