20/9/25

by Klelia

Dear diary 
I’m sorry I haven’t written in you for so long 
I’ve been pretty busy yearning
You haven’t missed much
Men decided to start fighting invisible demons
Just as we started fighting for our rights
The edgy ones are fighting something called “the matrix”
I’m pretty sure that’s capitalism 
It’s weird here
So many protests
Left and right 
Screaming
LIBERTATE
I’m pretty sure that’s class war
The smell of cigarettes and dry shampoo 
Fills the air of my room 
The place I condemn my oversharing 
After a night of overspending 
I’m waiting for the man 
My employer 
To save me from my castle 
In which i’m stuck scrolling through atrocities
Recently started to understand 
Alcoholism 
I always had something better
To do
Than waking up hangover 
What’s the fucking point?
What’s the point fucking?
Me 
My top is from a land very far away
My pants are from my grandma
And my shoes are deadstock 
Exhumed from occupied grounds