the day behind closed eyes, the eyeballs burn a bit, the steam hiss of the tiny tuss in the head. Oh what of it. It is saturday. Asleep since friday evening and just the wish to vanish into an eternal cocoon of warmth perhaps thirty degrees, and nothing else, the thoughts just following in the circles of the mind, Free of the desires and demands of others. Just a certain freedom, away from the feeling of use and abuse, just roll up in bed and return to nod, nana nothing
eterno casulo, though something else was meant by that, something more creative and beautiful, beyond these thoughts and this mind.
the dumb loneliness that will lead no where.
It is impossible right now to see what will lead anywhere.
get up, get dress, go to the bathroom, no shower, brush the fuzzy feeling from the teeth.
Everywhere a mess things left lying about, no sense of order, none no nada nothing.
Weekend fury.
and the poor son rushing around trying to cope with a situation that he is so purely a victim of,
Saturday awful, awful, selfish depression.
like a shellfish in the safety of a shell
but shellfish are not selfish
get dressed and get on with the day
eterno casulo, though something else was meant by that, something more creative and beautiful, beyond these thoughts and this mind.
the dumb loneliness that will lead no where.
It is impossible right now to see what will lead anywhere.
get up, get dress, go to the bathroom, no shower, brush the fuzzy feeling from the teeth.
Everywhere a mess things left lying about, no sense of order, none no nada nothing.
Weekend fury.
and the poor son rushing around trying to cope with a situation that he is so purely a victim of,
Saturday awful, awful, selfish depression.
like a shellfish in the safety of a shell
but shellfish are not selfish
get dressed and get on with the day
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