That’s Good to Me
Every day so gone before it starts
Wake up, you’re in bed you think
A whole day to be done and then
Lie down and know there’s
Nothing done, no relief, nothing
There will never be rest
It will be one thing cropped on
Another until you drop dead
Wondering
Where the respite of responsibility
Came in and became appealing
And
When it stopped being appealing
Why it continued
When there’s already pain and
Death and hate and people and
Rain and shit art and TV news
Might as well spend another hour
Thinking, might as well spend
Another day waiting
I fail to see how I maintain optimism
I don’t know how anyone survives
It could be the women, I don’t know
It could be air, air is nice
It might be orgasms or cake
But it’s probably just some
Stupid imperative stuck behind my ear
That and Ray Charles