Wednesday, July 2, 2014

the art of doing nothing

there is a certain perverse joy
in sitting and staring at a wall
with no concern, no thought
no fear of the future at all

even if the future is crawling
after you at its slow pace
you can just sit and stare at your wall
just resign from the rat race

the art of doing nothing
it takes years to master
but once you've got the hang of it
you can do nothing faster

stare at walls long enough
the walls start staring back at you
when you want to do nothing
there is nothing you can do


The man looks perfectly okay on the outside
His skin is shiny with sweat of hard labor
All his afflictions, he manages to hide
He hides everything he abhors 

Beneath his skin, his life is a war
He speaks heathen prayers, alone
His soul ripples, filled with scars
For him, there is no home

At night he sleeps a dreamless sleep
He feeds his fears to the termites
They crawl under his skin deep
He used to, but now he never fights

The man looks perfectly okay
Inside him, his bones are rotten 
He fades away one fine day
All alone, forgotten