a sad man in bed

I drink too much' i say to myself
every morning before i wake up
but i have nothing to sing
I am a sad man in my bed,
abusing the rats
listening to Blind Pilot.

I give blood, they give me orange juice
i give poetry, they give me weather report
they say “dont go out
it is a sad cold winter day
with teary eyes blinded by fogs.
cook something good
do u still have spring onion?
boil some cauliflower with peas and tomatoes
don't worry for your empire
winter will take care of it
with its coldness
no corpse will get spoilt

do something good for urself
trim your moustache
you have been eating with it
stop singing
“Why dont u just die
why dont u just stop living?
What is the point in life?”

you are a patient
your pillows know it all
you forget the name of the city
dont go out dont walk away
no matter how much a man walk
he will die with his body
not with the names of the roads
there is nothing wrong with the city
nothing right about the city
it is you!
It is your sleep that walks away
you are a dead man in disguise
there is no music left in you
you have had them all played many times
when you hated lovers
when you failed to be one

just learn to sleep
dont walk away “

No comments: