Monday, November 20, 2006
It Doesn’t Really Matter Comments
Rating: ★4.5
The sun shines brightly outside but my curtains remain closed.
Fatigue speaks to me and tells me to rest my head but my mind tells me to get a job.
My heart tells me to write a novel and fear tells me I won’t make it.
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7/18/2025 7:08:50 PM # 1.0.0
This is a great great great poem. If you like the old literature, I reckon you'd like the french existentialists - maybe Kafka too. But that's not the point. I love this poem. It says everything that needs to be said. Simply beautiful in that grip it has on our own feeling of absurdity. Glad I could read these.