The Room Without Problems

 

I see a downward spiral, taking the shape of a tornado

Its pitch-black turns lead to a pitch-black bottom

It spirals into control, at the eye of it, where I’ve built my chateau

Ersatz home, fancying up for myself- a room without problems

 

Can anyone else see it, at all? Are they blind to the despair?

There’s a tragedy about to occur, and I might be at the heart of it

I see a man, speaking into his device like it’s an urgent affair

But even he’s laughing, little breaths of huffed up laughter that un-befit

 

It seems so nugatory, how could he be so blithe?

For if he’s laughing, it couldn’t be anything serious

It’s only of the sad, and the angry, that havoc reeks

Anyone that gives joy more importance is delirious.

 

Somehow, there’s a crumpled up paper in the back of my head

Like someone tried to throw it out, but couldn’t- they missed!

It’s a list of all the things I MUST do, the things I just HAVE to- unless I’m dead

I can’t escape it, the list thinks- But escaping the list is on the list

 

Right now, in this very moment, I can feel the paper burn

I can see myself turn it into quickly dying embers

Lighting the pyre for the world I’m about to destroy, unconcerned

About anything at all, but my fatigued temper

 

I suppose this is what insurgents are made of

A burned list, a heightened sense of What if I just don’t want to?

Anger, pure anger, and perhaps a tinge of love

For pure animalistic freedom, from the Must-Haves and the To-Dos.

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3 thoughts on “The Room Without Problems

  1. Anger, pure anger, and perhaps a tinge of love

    For pure animalistic freedom, from the Must-Haves and the To-Dos.

    “perhaps a tinge of love”
    “For pure animalistic freedom”
    ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

    I hate myself.

    Like

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