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Yoshitomo Nara. MOT Collection

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Mathieu Lehanneur

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i have spent weeks looking at this ceiling 

i now know all the cracks and chips of paint 

i have grown accustomed to every spider web there is 

they seem to tell me a story about the past or the future 

and i find myself nonchalant by the horrid fate 

for i no longer looking to define myself with the past or the future 

since my last cup of coffee i have had a million thought 

that goes from under my finger nails

to the forgotten corner of the universe 

and back 

to this blue ball of blue existence and i ignore the dirty floor 

what if we were the stranded thoughts

of a suicidal poet

it makes sense to me all the confusion

the emptiness how to fill it

with anger with depression with things no i will fill it with self loathing

and dark sweet sadness for everything and everyone   

i feel sorry for my sister she lost all hope 

and i watch her move things 

my brother is telling me what’s the point 

and i just sit there analyzing his psychological state of mind

and my friend is telling me love doesn’t exist and she shows me all her scars 

and i shake my head up and dawn and say she is probably right 

what do i know i just stare at ceilings and fans and empty spaces and morning stars how can i fix them when i know nothing about life…. 


True xx

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