I don’t believe in boredom
Even if I type the word out
On a screen
Yahoo Messenger
Instead I paint white lines
Like picket fences
On the tips of my squarish nails
I stare at a small cake of cheese
And think about those
Laughing Cows
And what has made them
Rage hysterically?

My mental state is fitting
Your eyes, aren’t deceive with this mess
Introvert books and Fit magazines
Some thoughts spread
Like the comforter on my bed
Pizza boxes stacked
As the thoughts of glutton
Masquerade in my head
If they only appear
Like footprints and social network views
You would understand
The difficulty of being awake