Everything's a mess,

I sleep, but don't undress,


Drinking all but the Tia Maria.

I never finished any of these books

Hanging open like houseplants

Begging for water and a little reading,

Holding that one big idea I'm needing.



I know what I don't want.

I really know what I don't want.

I don't really know what I want, do I?



Another black shirt

Won't show the dirt,

I could wash, but I don't even bother.

Some piece of trite trash trumpets out the radio

But I don't turn it off.

I need to loathe its creation.

Contempt is my one contemplation.



'Cause I know what I don't want.

I really know what I don't want.

I don't really know what I want, do I?



Red in the face

From the air in this place.

It's close, so I open the window.

Something about heights makes a man

Start to reach for the bottom.

Dull in the mind from oversleeping,

I look for the things that are really worth keeping.



'Cause I know what I don't want.

I really know what I don't want.

I don't really know what I want, do I?

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