I sit on a pea-green couch, everyone had one in the '70s

Apart from everyone else

I'm in my own world, different, alone, desperate.

Is there something wrong with me?



Supposed friends ask me general questions,

I don't want to answer them, Should I?

I don't think so.



I switch on the TV. There is nothing

Only snow falls on the dust-covered screen.



Trying to enjoy myself But I am the only one

who is myself

Everyone else is someone new this night, not themselves.



I report to my watch for the twenty-third time,

It reports back still early



People begin their zombie-like walk from the fridge

to the bathroom

Where they begin praying to the so-called porcelain gods.



I'm tired I want to go home, to a bed with cold sheets

the best feeling on earth. Forget about this night

Until the next time I have to responsible

Make good Choices.