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I’m so fucking tired

I want to write about
sex without love
sex object people
no hope for love with that

I want to write about
happy and fulfilled life
successful artist
optimist
Pollyanna
deluded in denial

I want to write about
lonely people
the work of listening
"well. . . what do you Do?"
understand people
the work of understanding
"poor thing, poor poor thing"
more about Mr Melacholy
or being Smart vs being Pleasant

I want to
but the music isn’t loud enough
or the drugs strong enough
(I’m not on any to speak of anyway)
or the lights bright enough
or dim enough

it’s an hour earlier
and that’s enough
I shall sleep here
let my ego rest for a spell