Draw the curtains and turn out the troublesome light. Smoke a cigarette and crumble and then bloom and crumble and bloom some more. Smile at nothing and then break down with each and every laboured breath while unbuttoning your shirt and touching your breasts even though you’re miles from being in the mood. Sometimes it makes you come alive, but at times like this, you just feel cold and stupidly useless. Smile at nothing again and scratch your chest wishing for something to happen. You can hear voices so many voices that belong to so many people and yet nearly all of them say nothing despite their endless babble. There are those who would be your lover, and yet none of them say anything worth repeating. Trash this and trash that with their banal sexuality and their lame come to bed eyes while their bed is the slab that will one day hold their cold and hollow bones. Maybe have a drink. Maybe have the whole bottle and pretend your life was somehow fashionable, and the ideals you live by admired by those around you meaning you weren’t the strange and out of place loner you are. Lie down and curl into a ball. Cry for a bit and blow your nose on your sleeve. Spit at the wall and not care at the stain you leave. Maybe it’s time for some music, or it’s the right moment to reach out and touch someone with the same heart but all you do is lie there wiping your eyes. The sheets need washing and there’s too much dust on the bedside table but it’s going nowhere. Your belly rumbles and it’s been several hours since you last ate, but meh, whatever, you’ll go hungry and your headache will worsen and the weekend will go by in a blur but who gives a fuck. You won’t even brush your hair, and it’ll get all matted and greasy and you’ll look like a tramp but curled up and so far away from everything it doesn’t matter one bit so you spit at the wall again and just lie there watching your saliva dribble down until slowly ever so slowly it evaporates.