like it matters

I wake to another day of disconnect between the body and the mind. both should be mine and under control, though the imbalance dictates every morning. the day is no more than an effort to tie the two back together. between the commute and conversation through screens and vibration I read the blueprints, left no choice but to surrender to the recipe of pleasantries and movement.

in bed on the pillow my dreams spend the effort on painting days I'll never see. some I'd love to spend with you. without fail the effort counts for nought; waking to the same frame of limbs and absent thoughts that doesn't move or want to. I sigh into tomorrow and the headlines only write themselves more dire. dreaming less of the apocalypse in light of just how fast we're caving in.

a hemisphere of suits gasps as the curtain falls before the plan they've known since the beginning. Gaza will be fully occupied. watch the men play dumb and clamber into clusters to denounce the sudden transparency from the machine they built themselves. the people rally in the streets; I spend my time on something else.

we're in an ice age. I keep thinking about the fact I stole from a friend. we are in an ice age, and mean something less than nothing to the rock we live on. our silly little project will pass millions of years before the sun decides to die. a thorn in my thoughts between tasks and expectations. I drift and try to picture what the place will look like when we're gone. how long will trains keep running? is life below enough to puncture through the asphalt, all the pavement? what happens to the things we built? what of everything that mattered? will the Louvre outlive the supermarket? nowhere to take questions but the fridge. I leave them with the monster. he's eager for new friends and always waits for more to come.

crawl back into the shell intact and only wake to leave again. let's talk more about our feelings. I'll listen like it matters like the graveyards on my phone.