Ching, Ching.
Paying money for this. Paying attention to that.
Singing for your supper.
What is it now that will make you feel good.
Pad Thai. MacDonald’s chicken soup.
Everyone’s eating something.
Staring at the walls,
Hoping they’ll become doors.
Day after day,
Waiting for the night to turn to bright.
It’s so fucking scary
Letting everything in.
There’s no answer,
No thought that will make you OK.
Better let the night
Become day all by itself.