do they sprinkle Prozac
on their cornflakes?
everywhere I turn there’s dirt,
take that man crossing the street
notice the stain on his white/grey shirt,
why do I want the cars to hit him?
maybe I see some of myself in him,
maybe I’m just bored
and attempting to fill a joy shaped hole
with a handful of misery,
maybe the sky is solid…
have any of you ever touched it?
maybe this shitty excuse for a life
isn’t even half empty.