I am OK. I am broke. I am dreaming that I am drunk. I am.
I.
Am I? Am I dreaming, am I drunk? Am I broke? But am I
OK?
I am maybe two hundred and forty five thousand euros in assets
more or less disposable
than me.
I am maybe tired, and need to sleep or maybe poor and need to work
before they dispose
of me.
I am maybe in love and uncertainly feeling something
breaking through the
books and
CDs and
car and
clothing,
kettles,
washers,
and the
weekly shop
that cradle me.
I buy new boots once every 14 months, whether they are required or
Not.
I spend some time with my family, but more on the Internet where I can be someone I'm
Not.
I shout at the television, and fear no argument, engagement, because the other person is
Not.
I am coming through in negatives, a shadow and a cutout, a silhouette, tied up like a series of
Nots.
powered by performancing firefox
No comments:
Post a Comment