Let me read

 

once again that stupid sound
attempts to disrupt my non-existence
to bring me back to the stupid world
from my senseless unconsciousness.

“who are you and what the hell do you want ?”
-i pretend I don’t know him.

“You need to go to work.” (you need to be a robot)
no, not today, no
look I am sick (I am not).

i lie and i don’t feel guilty-
it makes me happy, free
nobody will miss me
that is true.

so let me and my bed
all day long in the same relative position
to read,
just read
words,
read for pleasure, joy
for nothing

let me inhale those words
written by someone i know nothing about

but i trust him, oh,
until i go out there
and find out he is delusional
like every other one
before.

nothing special I demand just
a dead tree tattooed with ink
and, occasionally, a writing machine.

let me be
let me be non-productive
alone-writer
i don’t want to entertain you
i want to be part of your machinery of dwarfs.

now, bring a new book
i finished this one.

hurry up
there is no time to read
all ever-written.