And yeah, so what

 


this year may as well
be some microwave
dinner nobody really
wants to indulge in

soaking through plastic,
laden in aromas screaming
please throw me out now

and trust me, i'm waiting
for that garbage brigade
to press that button down
so I can watch it begin
crushing to death.


I already know what
everyone around me
will collectively say

"it might get better
in a few months"

please know, as
this year rolls on
it's not going to
get any easier

but I know the
only way out of
fires is walking
through them

but i'm really
asking myself,

how many fires
does somebody
have to keep on
walking through

how many times
does our flesh
have to face
another burn

just to find a
little place we
can say peace

inside this little
sphere spinning
in it's own chaos?

i'm almost thirty
one and it's been
a long time i've
felt this way

perhaps I don't
have it in me as
much anymore

and yeah, so what
if you hate reading
this one out while
having fuck all to
say on the matter.