Seventeen Pushups

I watch a world of laugh tracks and best friends falling in love
On an old VHS my old machine ate
Someone switched tapes

I bring home my new reality only to find it repetitive and disappointing
Don’t bother turning it on anymore
Same show every night

I sell my old soul up the river to a used car man in a cheap suit
He looks happy to see me
But forgets my name

I get a little nervous whenever I microwave something
So I do almost seventeen pushups
Waiting for my dinner to thaw

I lean out my bedroom window to violently cough
Fingernail in my throat again
From eating myself

I fall in love with every girl who looks tired and sad
No explanation for this
Sort of dumb

I lay in cars with a victim of peroxide and punk rock
She only likes politics
Kisses like she’s angry

I manufacture gross nostalgia for all my boring memories
Remember when boring actually meant something
What’s with kids these days

I write brilliant novels in my dreams
Wake up with nothing
Go back to sleep

I get it into my head somehow that I am a nihilist
That stopped meaning anything to me
Get it?

I think about all the interesting ways people commit suicide
Then get all depressed
And ruin it

I divine the future based on decoder rings I find at the bottom of cereal boxes
Tomorrow will be the same
The next day too