Choices and conditions

Everything.

Everything it seems is a clear choice I make

I don’t want to care about choice

I choose nothing I choose nothing still and unmoving

I choose nothing mute and hurt

I care nothing for logical flow of thought

However pre programmed you insist it is

I care nothing for burnt yellow roses and pretty faces

Nothing for a time of no beauty or instinct

Nothing for a life which is someone else’s choice

Nevermind the wasted smiles ringing

I care nothing for either silence or anger

Nothing for the craving of chocolate topped with cream

Nothing for the phlegm in my mouth

Nothing for the cough of hollows in my throat

I care nothing for fingers sliced from the nails

Nothing for fruit flies and pigeon troubles

Nothing for carefully arranged bottles and potions

Nothing for my ever absent guests or imaginary ones

Nothing for the bitter cold around styrofoam cups

Nothing for political conversations at lunch

Nothing for intelligent conversations at lunch

Nothing for polite conversations at lunch

Explain to me

What is the metaphysics of irrationality?

I will rest for one whole day

Now of all things you’ll tell me Everything.

Everything is a clear choice I make