jeudi 1 mars 2012

the hours

if i had anything left to say, i'd say it, dammit
nothing but the hours the hours
stretching out before me in this cold empty house
the muted television, cold mint tea
and me drowning in unending ennui

god forbid dollars would fall
or a plane ticket out of here to france
or a dark chocolate bar, anything to fill
the unending nil of this existence
the clanging boredom, the hammering pain

hell yes i'm depressed, wouldn't you be
wouldn't anyone left to fend for herself
with a handful of meds and infinite illness
i try everyday to occupy some meaning
but find in the end i'm too stressed to care

so i fill my head with amadeus and then
check out the birds and the earthquakes
photoshop the forests, listen to the rain
wake up with my back nearly broken
on a busted up sofa, head exploding

there's no escape, i just have to face it
fill the hours as they come and go
a book, a movie, a lousy poem
noise in the kitchen, a cat full of needs
a bunch of anger that needs some peace

Aucun commentaire: