organ donor

if you dont care about anything then nothing will disappoint you.
its a thursday and i cant seem to make it to work. i cant seem to pull myself from bed, from the bus, off the ledge of the bar, from the crook of amy's shoulder. i cant seem to make my body work, and all the sudden im robot emotion, everything we had laughed about 9 months ago isnt funny anymore. its our life. what was funny that rainy afternoon we pushed the couches together and smoked pot and laughed isnt funny its sad. its sad because it feels fake, it was robot emotion, it was everything we hate. and so amy and i sit slack jawed and steely eyed, damp necks and sweaty eyes, looking at each other for something, im sorry we keep saying, im sorry i dont know what to say to you, and we just sit in our sadness. just stir it around the rim of our drinks and fend off boys who try to bum cigarettes with glances, like, i will fucking kill you if you talk to me right now, and its funny how easy people read our feelings, know what we mean, with one glance, and the people we have loved forever, it seems, cant even figure out how to not make us cry.
i find myself on your street. on our streets. this city will ruin me and i wake up exhausted. i cant keep avoiding mirrors and storefronts, closing my ears to peoples conversations on the bus and hats at the bars i drink at. i hated this city, until i met you, and now its nothing but a museum i hate to visit. a place where everything makes me sad. my friends sit around a table, silent and i say nothing, i stare them all down through the red and green and yellow christmas lights and let their faces go blurry. there is nothing to say when they ask for answers, prod my shoulders for reasons and details. and were just in limbo. and all i can say, all i know, among the fake fur and faux greenery is i care about you, i care about you, i care about you. and then i lose myself on polk street and wish away street corners that held us, that held me, that changed us, that changed me.