It’s raining on my window pane,
Inside this house looks so lame.
I’m so funny, so bored hunni.
Nothing much to do but to be a horn dog,
Being bored makes me write in my log.
Are we counting up or down?
Nothing seems to go around.
Boredom, you don’t like him.
Boredom, you wanna shoot him.
Don’t make that move.
You get in trouble when looking for fun,
You get so tired when the day is done.
Soon as you get in bed,
You remember what should be done instead.
Just forget the problem.
Get a goodnight sleep and dream.
Forget about the boring adventure,
You should’ve discovered something in nature.
Boredom, forget them.
Boredom, sleep before the morning.
Inside this house looks so lame.
I’m so funny, so bored hunni.
Nothing much to do but to be a horn dog,
Being bored makes me write in my log.
Are we counting up or down?
Nothing seems to go around.
Boredom, you don’t like him.
Boredom, you wanna shoot him.
Don’t make that move.
You get in trouble when looking for fun,
You get so tired when the day is done.
Soon as you get in bed,
You remember what should be done instead.
Just forget the problem.
Get a goodnight sleep and dream.
Forget about the boring adventure,
You should’ve discovered something in nature.
Boredom, forget them.
Boredom, sleep before the morning.
The Man With No Eyes Collection (4): Lately
I thought I lost you before you even left me.
That’s the message that your cloudy gaze sent me,
And now it’s become a glistening bubble of a memory.
Is it possible you regret me?
Is it possible that I’m empty?
Why else would I awake to find no one here except me?
Won’t anyone accept me?
My true face, not the stunning mask of the beautiful, bereft me?
Haunted riches; is it worth being wealthy?
The creeping outside my doors; they’re gonna get me.
And once they finish chopping me up, they’re gonna set me,
Ablaze, and then they’ll just forget me.
A more grim tone and disorganized format were intentional for this one. Funny enough, the title was the hardest part here. Trying to sum up this poem in just a word was difficult, but I think I found a good fit.
I thought I lost you before you even left me.
That’s the message that your cloudy gaze sent me,
And now it’s become a glistening bubble of a memory.
Is it possible you regret me?
Is it possible that I’m empty?
Why else would I awake to find no one here except me?
Won’t anyone accept me?
My true face, not the stunning mask of the beautiful, bereft me?
Haunted riches; is it worth being wealthy?
The creeping outside my doors; they’re gonna get me.
And once they finish chopping me up, they’re gonna set me,
Ablaze, and then they’ll just forget me.
A more grim tone and disorganized format were intentional for this one. Funny enough, the title was the hardest part here. Trying to sum up this poem in just a word was difficult, but I think I found a good fit.
