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Same Old Shit

Old shit
New shit
Same old shit

Isn’t that
What’s been going on
For years now

Every day
The new shit’s
Just the old shit

Wake to ringing ears
Achy jaws
Bitterness lingering

Piss and stumble
Cups of tea
A little fix
To scratch the itch
Binge TV
Hot cross bun
Drink through afternoon
Until bed

Purge
A few words
Scratch the page

Think of ghosts
Long gone
Online — whatever crap
Regrets
Half-cooked hopes
Nothing sticks

No hope
No plan
Lousy applications

Sixth time
At the damn supermarket
Delivery job
No call back

Months waiting —
Emails checked
Dozen times a day

Some stranger’s choice
A few hundred a month
That’s my worth

Someone I’ll never meet
Decides it all —
If I live
How I live
What I eat
Where I sleep

I think I’m in charge
Really —
What am I running

I don’t want to know
Who does

What’s changed
Bed
Few new faces
My own body
New drugs
Books

Why’s nothing enough
What’s my fucking problem

Scrolling to hide
Avoiding myself
Even incognito —
I cannot hide

Some remark
No one bites
Delete — pretend it never happened

Hate the hustle
Self-promotion
That’s why I’m stuck
No damn pitch to sell
Every fucking day

Rather stay small
Bathroom singer
Closet writer
Piling up words

Who reads them
Few hundred views
Lost in billions
Clicking on cheap tricks

All those talkers —
They don’t know me
Still, I feed on them
Twisted voyeur
I loathe myself

Hate how I waste
Days flushed down
While people count on me
And death awaits

Shit days
Self-hate

At least —
Cider is still cheap
And wifi also works

Small comforts
Same old shit

Next poem Samsara
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