Silly Little Frustrating Thing

There may be something you notice

because even though you don't care, it's like imposing air,

sometime you may be aware

of the place where you are and you may stay there

there may be, many unoccupied things, quietly occupying the things

that you see

sedated to distraction

rubbed against the walls by your elegant inaction

refusal of dismissal with your inability to speak like a freak

who can't comprehend what it means not to be guilty

you awkward skinny bird you don't care

you're too good and they're well aware

you stow tea-bags and scissors away in your drawers

you intend to use them when you need....something more?

something so unassumingly sweet

like the yellow backs of leaves that coast along the street

whatever, you'll only forget them later

you fold your fingers with their cigarette shake

and the beige way they shine in the morning

you'd rather they never existed at all

while you listen to the close enough ringing, of some nothing

song you could be singing

why did you even press the bell?

I want ask because you can't tell

you are not amazed by your impressive lack of taste

and they way you speak of kindness like such an arid thing exists

and still you persist

why do you comply, with the hours of measurements and comparisons

bringing you suicide?

do you know why?

you will open a drawer, cut off a piece of bang from the corner of your ear

that has always bothered you

since the day it came near

to the skin that you never touch, just below that braid and I'm only talking

because I have nothing to say

you will fix a little cup of cute little coffee

and once it's finished we'll talk absent-mindedly

there may be something you notice

sometime you may be aware

you will only be allowed to stay there

occupying your preoccupied spaces, shedding your graces, forgetting faces

then, its you

Author's Note

I don't actually know what this means?