things I should be doing

it's all a lie

every morning I wake up with the same plan,

a list longer than my arm

 

I have things I should be doing,

phone calls must be made

 

but I switch the alarm off

turn around and go back to sleep

 

everything in the closet is encapsulated by your scent, every single fibre carries a part of you

 

the day drags itself forward,

I water the flowers and drink tea

 

maybe the phone rings,

maybe I’ll answer this time

 

evening and I haven’t

crossed a single thing off the list

 

the ashtray sits untouched on the balcony, filled to the brim with memories

 

reading bad novels

until my eyes close themselves

 

walking outside of dreams,

looking at the emptiness in between  

 

whispering the list in my sleep

Author's Note

translated from Swedish