Move

I’m in bed smoking a cigarette and reading poems about death

I can hear my housemate fucking her boyfriend in the next room

My mum keeps calling me

Keeps asking me what I want to do with my life

How I’m going to get financially stable

And stop asking her to pay my rent

Monday to Friday, nine to five love

Or another three-year university degree

Because art degrees don’t mean shit

There’s a bunch of forms sitting on the kitchen bench

That need to be filled out and signed

But I can’t even look at them

I’ve got an appointment with the future that I’ve been putting off

There’s a dull ache in my chest

The whirr of my computer sounds like my apathetic heart

At least I can watch the minutes pass

Without desperately trying to fill them

I don’t know how to rise in love

I’ve mastered the art of falling in it though

Because the longest relationship I’ve ever had is with my sadness

It’s effortless and faithful, never strays away

It’s always there waiting like a loyal puppy

Bank account is in the minus

Looks like I’m eating instant noodles tonight

Cigarettes are more necessary than food for thought

I am stagnant and move like a slug leaving a slimy trail behind me

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