Mornin'

The dawn breaks through a faux velvet blanket curtain.
I hate to see the sun rise and dispel the darkness
with its unwelcome warmth upon my skin.
My cheap dirty box fan struggles futility to keep me cool
in this squalid oven of a mobile home.
I sneer narcissistically at my first world problems.
Light up a cigarette, the first of many.
Hunger is something I do not know.
Others starve, but I, do not wish to eat.
Why am I even writing this?
Who will see? Only strangers that do not care.
This apathy is all I have.
I await death with solemn indifference.
Today is a good day to die.
But I am not that fortunate.
Too much of a coward to commit suicide directly.
Instead, I prolong my suffering,
drinking in each anguish like fine wine.
Delighting, in the misery of life.

Some Possible Irony

The one's I wish would read my meager writings, don't.
So, I write, to nobody but myself.
It is hard not to feel as if nobody cares,
even the one who says they do.
You will never read my words,
even though I beg and plead.
It as if you want to keep me a secret.
A shameful unwanted remembrance.
Accidental love, soon to be discarded.
And yet, you will ever know how I feel.
I can't tell you, it causes too much drama.
There is nothing I can do,
except watch us slowly fall apart
One day I will wake,
and you will be gone,
I will never hear from you again.
I said I would cope.
But, I won't.
I'm not even coping now
and you are still there, sort of.
I already feel like I've lost you.
Or rather, never "had" you to begin with.
Love, what a cruel joke.
Beautiful disaster and bitter sweet symphony.