Keyboard Muffins

Keyboard muffins.

Cold office.

Tea steeped for too long.

Sun setting,

Office dimming.

Too paralyzed to turn on the light.

Getting colder.

World crazier.

End is near.

I don’t want to see anyone.

Basement I go.

Lock the hatch.

Wait for the worms in the sky to pass.

Eyes dazed, eyes unhappy.

What are emotions?

Just little chemicals floating around that I can’t have.

Reflection off the roof sends photons into my cones.

Color theory is different for everyone.

No direction—how do you not crawl into a ball?

Give up.

Lie down.

Lay 10 heavy blankets over your fetus body.

Wanting to crawl back where you came from.

I’m cursed.

It’s all I got.

Say hip hip hooray—you survived another day.

What is the next day?

You say that a new day is filled with endless potential.

If I even wander off the path for 5 seconds, I’m dead.

Out on the streets.

Man in the tower laughs and pours another glass.

He has an IV bag of young blood, trying to keep him immortal.

The homeless, lost, forgotten below sing a song:

Nah Nah Naaaah Nah
Nah Nah Naaaah Nah
Hey hey heey, you’ll still die.

It makes them nervous.

More actions.
More laws.
More enforcers.
More control.

Surgeons are hired.

They specialize in complex skin stitching.

They stitch the mouths of the homeless, the lost, the forgotten.

While they stitch mouths with no antiseptic, they sing:

Nah Nah Naaaah Nah
Nah Nah Naaaah Nah
Hey hey heey, goodbye

-1/24/2026