Phone off, forgotten somewhere.
Loose, flowing, brushed hair.
Zero fucks given & I don’t care.
Off to the inner world I dare.
No meeting, no projects,
only reading for fun.
Clean here, clean there,
hair now goes up in a high bun.
No obligations, no people,
I’m left with myself.
Usually, this is a blast,
but sometimes I wonder about killing oneself.
I’d rather use my off days for this:
processing emotional, confusing bullshit,
then waste what little reserves I have,
and let my “social life” take a hit.
Lazy days are the best days of all;
I get to watch aspects of me crumble and fall.
This may seem depressing and small,
but out come little gems, like this here scrawl.