Sometimes, I feel like it’s all a bit of a fuck’all.
Sometimes, I rub my hands together in anticipation of something good happening,
Sometimes, I press the elevator button that has already been pressed,
I can’t explain why.
Sometimes, I check the date on random fire extinguishers.
Sometimes, I try not to get gas on my hands when I’m filling my car’s gas tank at the gas station.
Sometimes, I eat the whole pizza.
Sometimes, I get so mad I could spit, that I spit.
Sometimes, people meet the poor expectations I hold of them.
Sometimes, I wish that people complaining, lose a week of their lives for every complaint they make.
Sometimes, I am paralyzed by my own befuddlement.
Sometimes, I really don’t care how you feel.
Sometimes, I just want it to be quiet.
Sometimes, too many people have too many opinions about too many things.
Sometimes, I fall asleep while I’m sitting there waiting for the proper time to go to sleep.
Sometimes, people ask too much of me.
Sometimes, I think you’re an asshole.
Sometimes, I need some time.
Sometimes, I feel like an old crushed Cuban cigar, illegally purchased and smuggled over the border from Canada, and kept in a baggie for enjoyment at a later time, that due to time and forgetting has been reduced to unsmokable, but unable to be thrown away because of the sentimental value attached to it.
Mental Health Matters
Poetry, Short Stories and Violent Ideas
Transformed By Meeting That Which I'm Not
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