Consistent

I step off the train.
Roll up my earphones and put the Music away.
Want to listen to the word around me.
Like I cared.

I wish I gave a fuck.
I just don’t.
I would like to feel what others feel.
But giving a fuck seems like quite an effort.
Quite an effort to be like anyone else.
Busy.
Giving too many fucks too often.
Giving fucks for fucks than don’t deserve any fucks given.

So I walk the streets.
Any street.
Wrapped up in memories
and useless thoughts of the like.

Like sex.

“I have to change my focus. Sex can’t be the main focus of my life,”
I said to a friend I had just fucked.
I also said that to a friend I haven’t fucked.
Some consistency.

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