| » Poem: When Does the Garbage Man Come? |
When Does the Garbage Man Come?
written by purpleppleater10:35 AM 2/19/05Damn.
There goes the plan of getting to bed early.
What a shit.
Why does it do that?
Time.
Time keeps moving.
It doesn't stop.
What a fucking wollop of an epiphany.
Anxiety.
I don't like this never-ending time bullshit.
I can't catch my breath.
My head begins to spin.
Fear.
Fear that I'm losing time.
Not using it to it's full potential.
All of the wasted seconds...
minutes...
hours...
days.
Days!
Christ!
To think I've wasted days of precious time!
Time I won't ever get back!
Disposal.
I should fucking die.
I don't contribute shit...
except for CO2.
And even then who could call it contributing.
Trash.
When does the damn garbage man come?
I have the notion to just throw myself...
into the back of his fucking truck.
That would be making myself useful.
Fuck. |
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