Disembodied Anthropological Fascination

by Noise Pollution

“There’s a whole world out there
outside your bedroom”
she said
and I should get my ass up
and pull my sad self
out of bed
“The sun rises every morning
you could see it if you tried
but you’ll never stop this mourning
I’d believe you if you ever cried
You told me last you saw
a scene so beautiful
a girl collapsed into your empty arms
and finally made them full
but then you locked it away
and buried the remains
and I saw you try to dig them up
but they’re gone forever now
there’s nothing left of what you had
you’ve had time to sort that out
but you won’t.”

There’s a hole in the wall
of my old bedroom
There’s a ceiling collapsed
at my old job
and there’s this negetive space
inside my concience
and there’s this crippling weight
I should have lost

I don’t want to see the sun
no more.
I’m not missing anything.
I’m not missing