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Posts tagged with Walt Whitman.
“My loneliness feels like my soul
Opposite of Song of Myself by Tao Lin (via beautyisanillusion)
needs to pee but I can’t find a bathroom.
I feel abstract.
I’m an abstraction.
I disapprove of myself.
I click the mouse and I despair
staring at the computer screen
I hate myself.
Wandering aimlessly near Union Square
putting on my zip-up hoodie
felt like a preparation
for the end of my life. My CD player’s batteries
were “dead,” I could hear my breathing
and it sounded scary, like I had left
my earphones in, which I had, I had left them in.
I took them out and held them sadly
and put them in my pocket.
It is time to explain myself.
I feel sad like a friendless unicorn baby licking an unopened package of sour patch kids.
In bed at 4PM
I held my pillow
and thought “oh well”
in regards to my entire life.
Running across the street
to get to my apartment
I arrived at my apartment.
My key going into the lock
made noises I couldn’t hear.
I was listening to music through earphones.
Mixed CD…the key wasn’t working,
it was the wrong key. I felt about to be robbed
I looked behind me. Three obese women. A 24-hour deli.
In bed the next afternoon I thought I heard a very loud noise
from very far away
that sounded like I was dying,
but it was something else, a roommate
in the bathroom.
I stood in the kitchen staring out the window
at 5PM, it was raining. I had no obligations
for the next four days. “I don’t want anymore obligations
or responsibilities,” I thought with some confusion.
Then I thought about my smoothie.
It was below me somewhere. I was holding it
waist-level. Across the street someone
was screaming a little. Something behind my eyes
was looking at the world
with more interest than I
and angry at me about that.
Don’t be angry at me, I thought sarcastically.”