Friends gone for the weekend
Or the week
Unscheduled trips to other towns
And outer space
The sound of your own thoughts
Silencing themselves
Like the proper instructor
A split second
Before you were ready to say:
Fuck it
Fuck it all
And then some
The temporary goal
Left unaccomplished
On the cusp of becoming
Something ignored
By the general public
Poor sound quality
Throwing you off balance
Even at night
The girl you didn't bother to talk to
Posing unattractively online
With the person
You expected her To be posing with
Thinking about
And getting over the next morning
The songs that have dried up
Meaning what they meant
And then getting personally defunct
The things left unsaid
That are so much better that way
The thought of work tomorrow
And how much time we can all kill before then
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