Thoughts Left At The Door.
I want to have so many friends that I don’t have to worry about thinking,
heaps and bundles of personal perspectives to sift through.
Scrolls and scrolls of gripes and regret, leaning in closer to suffocate my own.
I’d like hot drinks in a mug I admire,
shots of patron that never run dry,
headphones blaring music until I’m tired.
I want a screen in each room when I retire,
with a comfy chair just down the back,
where I can sit and watch each one simulating fire.
I want to dream, please!
Not think!
Leave my thoughts at the door and just breathe.
Sex after I open my eyes and once more when I get home, not much following that just a cigarette and some iced tea as I talk on the phone.
Can I choose podcasts and TikTok throughout my day??
Stay with me, each moment until I fade away.
I want you now not later.
What was your childhood like?
Did you look up at the stars too and hope for courage?
Keep going,
keep talking.
Until I wither away,
fully expire.
