Ode to Whatever

Here
Waiting
For that someone to finish
His blasted shower.
So I can do my thing.
Don't wanna do work.
So am writing.
Clothes in the machine.
Been two weeks,
What a mountain!
Corals are dying.
Everywhere dying.
Global Warming
Whoopy do.
But why do I care?
Wrote a philosophy essay.
Late, again.
Wrote about the importance
Of "Direct Experience":
The basis of ecological consciousness.
Alfred Leopold.
Rediculous: think
Here I am in my computer.
In downtown Toronto.
And I'm writing about
The necessity of experiencing wilderness.
When was the last time I saw wilderness?
Must have been months.
So long.
I touched an sad ol', manicured trees
A couple days ago
Must have been
Barks bleeched of lichen
Because its Downtown Toronto
The air's so fucking bad.
(Lichen are indicators, remember)
So stupid, writing about this.
Depression.
So hopeless, everything.
Now this is stupid.
I'm sound like some pimpled teenage going through
Teenage anx, puberty.
Then again, maybe its about time.
I never had a proper teenage life.
No dating in high school,
No wild experimentation,
No messy rooms or junk food.
No.
I was a good kid.
Maybe too good.