I’m getting sick of these days
they’re so long and boring
like an endless malaise
of wondering and wandering
in streets half-lit
half-riddled with memories of joyful days
of once-warm caresses
that left a sting and left me longing

They come too often
these boring days
much more often than before

Thinking is a very tiring thing
I can’t stop thinking
not one bit
and it’s really fucking annoying
it’s too much
it’s too fucking much

I’m starting to think of drinking again
I shouldn’t
Not after so long
It’s been so long
and that’s good.

What’s good really
Why does good matter so much
How is it good

It makes me healthier
more aware
awake and in control

In control to continue living a life that’s in control
A life in a system of control
Where even if you have all the control you want
you still don’t have any fucking control

It’s nice not to be suicidal
It’s nice liking to live
There is no utter sorrow or sadness
no huge downs
no heavy bouts of nostalgia

But there are no heavy bouts of joyful tears either

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