Let Me

edibility

It is too much bother to continue the daily facade.
The constant noise of life drills into my head
the ringing of phones and slamming of doors
the clatter of voices, voices enclosing
the complex rhythm that is only understandable
to those that love it.

I cannot walk with it, not now.

The click of keys on an ancient ibm
is my language, my beat-
for text can be erased,
programs- unlike people- closed
shutdown initiated.

I wish life had a shutdown button.

Let me be the centre of my withdrawal.
Let me be selfish and use all the milk
always cook my favourite meal
never clear the table, just throw the plates out.
Let me sulk and whine
cry and masturbate
maim and pleasure.
Let me never worry about reactions.
Let me write page after page
of feeling and emotion and utter tripe
and only show it to people I can't care about.
Let me sleep two hours
and move three foot to my chair
and stare until I fall asleep on my desk.
Let my absence go unnoted
as I wish my presence never was.
Let me kill all fondness and forget I ever felt.

Let me never need to need to seek permission.

Give me everything I need to survive anything material.
And then leave me alone.