Empty Day

Nowhere bound,
nowhere bound.

I sit at my desk reading articles about what is happening
They make a discovery, a guy won the lottery, another crafted a masterpiece
Just with his bare hands in his living room

How would he fit a canvas between two sofas and a table?
Would he prop it against the TV and the stand-up stereo?
His paints would be lost to clutter, his canvas victim to cats
He could clean it up, fix it up, to only have something else knocked back

And he too will go down, crashing on the couch
in a slouch, pressing remote buttons
Until the TV bursts into color, blaring laughter from the screen
There are girls in “volumized curls,” boys brag about their expensive toys

He’s flipping through commercials, his disgust never falters
They’re selling him Viagra, coaxing him to watch a show
News cameras are out, another attack in Chicago

By now he’s stiff as a board, he’s over-bored
He ends up taking a snooze

So that he can lose
The aches in his body, the pains in the brain
The forgotten day, the wasted youth
the existence of motivation, and lack of food in the fridge
He’ll lose sense of morality, the worry of mortality
His sight, his taste, his hearing
The couch, the room, his house, while he lies in place
With a lady he’ll never talk to
He’ll lose all recollection
He’ll lose him and her and the break in his reality

The clock is striking midnight, the clock is ticking away from midnight.

He holds his pulsing head, his feet never felt so heavy
Shuffle through the house, crawl into bed, and lay to rest everything single thing

But then he’ll wake up and venture to the kitchen for his cup, and fill it half way up with coffee, morning’s certainty
He will sit and sip at his desk, get a chuckle from the funnies, sooth curiosity of the classifieds, and find some articles of interest.