unimportant thoughts

My balanced fear and neglects drink from my eyes.
They enclose me
gently
while I try to say something but can't.
It is easy.
Everything is easy.
The inertia usually is precisely what we do not do.
Yes, banality.
Yes, adorable paranoia. Aye, my mature dreads. 
Your healthy fruits on that strange green yarn ball.
The plastic birch tree of oblivion.
That might tell me how erecting
a giant daemon from our mouths,
billions of quacking pits,
with this bouncing ballast on my neck. 
No encrypted and cyphered expressions.
My thought is the River Nothing More.
With a flow of my opposite breathing
when I wasn't there.
When I could not be there.
That was my seclusion
wrapped with forgotten landscapes;
Randomly dotted through with those greens
which could be trees or
bushes, or might be your mitigated corpse.
Tell you, what should kill me today?
What should I need to be aware of?
When you touched that thing in the shop,
did you mark yourself?

Tell me,
why should I continue listening to all those fibbers?
Who keep destroying their children and grandchildren
every day. Just with their consumption.
Just by the shopping. 
Producing.
Buying, selling and hypocrisy.
They were born
but are like miscarried babies by their parent's nonsense
and covetousness. Unpolite to talk about it.
Too tempestuous.
Too upsetting.
Much better to make pseudo-optimistic
and positivistic scopes and treatises.

I can see my legs stuck in the pavement;
I can't see you anymore.
I remember our last physical contact.
You stroke my back. You cried. 
Your quiet, introverted world was demolished by that second.
I went downstairs and got into the cab.
When you hurriedly ran down to search for me,
I had already left and won't be there anymore.
That segment of life dissolved.

I am confused; yes, that is obvious.
I am baffled as many of our things are nonsense,
and I have no magical power to fix the world.
Do not want to be sophisticated. 
I do not care about the lyrical dust.
Can You see the gradually rotten?
how things are getting harmed,
slowly but inexorably lousy.
In Manchester, there are heat waves, but they are happy.
Eating, drinking, shopping more.
They might think this is the new Mediterranean.
No more words.