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I’m not going to force it
And pretend I’m feeling something I’m not
I’m just gonna talk about what I see, before me:

It’s a late-spring evening outside my window
The blossom on the trees has come and gone
And now what is left are bright green leaves
Waiting for the sunlight of the summer months.

They wait as they sway back and forth in the wind
And I, too, feel the breath of the world in my lungs
As my elbows rest on the hard wood of my table
While writing down these words one by one.

What is coming tomorrow?
I really don’t know
I have no plans, no job,
Nothing much going on at all.

I’m currently living on government benefit
Going on long walks along the river
Searching supermarkets for reduced food
And browsing the internet for hours a day

I do have a job to go back to next month
But for now it’s just the job of existing
Breathing the air, eating the food
Falling asleep for eight hours every night

It’s a job I’m at least competent at
And look, I even find other ways to exist:
Such as writing poems
And philosophising
As I stare out of windows
Watching my life breeze by
With no particular meaning.

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