Lockdown or the suffocating novelty of ordinary life

I’ve given this, two titles because I am in love with Kurt Vonnegut’s garrulity on paper.

I am trying to find familiarity in the suffocating novelty of ordinary life,

Half asleep, my hungry eyes and indolent mind, dream a delicious vivid dream, I am in no hurry to get up and catch up with the slow guzzle of mundanities.

I am trying to find familiarity in the suffocating novelty of ordinary life,

Hanging in there like a curtain and running my hands into my hair, trying to pick out a silver shiny strand of decline from my head that houses nothing but a jealous resolution to outdo everyone.

Lying down on a comfortable settee dreaming of the scorching heat outside that burns a fire familiar to the one within me,

I am trying to find familiarity in the suffocating novelty of ordinary life, slowly wasting the most exuberant years of my youth in anticipation of a liberation I shall never have.

I am dreaming of the magical banality of afternoons spent in coffee shops-the the lavishness of a company, the half musings of an absent mind, looking out of the window feeling the tipper tapper of the unseasonal rain.

I am trying to find familiarity in the suffocating novelty of ordinary life,

Overindulging in vanity with a ton of filters, discarding them one after another, and staring at the empty gallery haunting me with the pauperism of beauty.

I am cooking and reading and reading and writing and writing and watching and watching and eating and eating and regretting and regretting and anticipating and anticipating and, getting drained by this dreary cycle to please the endorphin gods.

Unencumbered from tedious everyday tests of productivity I put myself through, I am sleeping underneath the stars a sweet sweet sleep, unperturbed by what is to come next!

Maybe plague, maybe life, maybe death, maybe life

I am trying to find familiarity in the suffocating novelty of ordinary life.