This is one of those poems that never quite felt finished. It was supposed to be a faced-paced spoken word/song lyrics type of thing but I didn’t feel like completing it and watched Netflix instead. I guess that’s valid considering that’s what the poem’s about.
Song for July
I’m busy making soup that’s basically just mashed potato
I eat it watching netflix and still wonder where the day goes
Picking up my kid from kinder’s the only time I see people
And mums trying to shoot the breeze
I think who the hell are these people
We’re all on high alert we’re feeling every single feeling
When I lie down I spend three hours staring at the ceiling
Delivery of a package is the highlight of my day
But I keep telling myself it’s ok to be not ok
My house has never been so clean
Too bad it’ll never be seen
Coz you can’t come here no more
Don’t bother knocking on my door
Coz i ain’t in.