like a vine
it grows
over the living room walls

we’re seated there
in the palm of
some unseeing god

the fingers, tense
and ready to close
in with all the
gentle rage of a mother

it has been seven days since
I last saw the sun

I know it has been seven days
because I have been counting

the garbage stuffs itself
the cups are getting to know the cutlery better
and grime is painting the faucet

a clock ticks
I don’t own any

a clock ticks
I don’t want to own any

a clock ticks
it must not be mine

there is nothing good on television
because everything is on television
and everything that can possibly be
said is already there on television
which makes me wonder if there
is any purpose for literature,
language, acting or irony

this is an invented depression
like pushing your thumb into
a block of blu-tac
idly while you work
on something you don’t care for

it’s like you found a bear trap and stepped in it
it’s like you led a bear into your house and into your kitchen
upon which it ate everything in your fridge
it’s like you trapped a bear and wanted to free it
so being free it decided to eat you
it’s like eating a dish full of chain links

it’s like every finger is a spike waiting to close onto something

sometimes I find that I do not know
the purpose of anything in the world ever
so I sit on the sofa and stare until
lights occupy the room of my eyelids

a clock ticks
a clock ticks
a clock ticks

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.