So It Goes

A Poem by ZeeArsonist

I was wearing your shirt today
and thinking about History.
Not unlike the laundry that endlessly f*****g repeats itself.
Systems;
cycles, and how
everyone cares about the weather
without ever really listening or just going outside.
We’re all too busy hurting about something.
Be it timing, spatial indifference, the lottery
or the goddamn cheap toilet paper.
We’re on the clock with this
perpetual sore that keeps us
lemming anywhere else
without regard
      I hurt you, you hurt me,
      I hurt me, iyoume
It’s the light and dark of it
The cold, hard,
nameless f**k all juggernaut of
the collective unconsciousness that
we all have a hand in to stoke the coals
and weep like ashes
stubbed out and left.
      So where does it start
      Or stop
Does it matter if we’re authentic
And trying since we’re on the same plot?
Its just life, man.
Get with the rotation.
Someone’s gotta be the hunter.
Someone’s gotta clear the table.
But if you’re vulnerable enough
you’ll just end up scrubbed raw
like a bird before dinner
that everyone forgets about as soon as its over.