July 19th – Poem

It feels like a Saturday.854075
There’s orange pulp in my water.
I’m depressed about my weight.
She says ‘sing cos it’s obvious,’
but how or why it’s so obvious
I can’t fathom.
I’m really far from home.
I never learned piano.
A walk around the block
sounds like too much
in this heat.
I spilled a drink on my phone.
I can no longer type the letter ‘k.’
I’m sick of Special K.
I’m glad I never got roped into trying
the other Special K when I was younger.
Outside it smells like bins.
Nonsense poetry is not what it was.
Whoever came up with the term
should’ve thought about how
it could be abused.