counting the days for...what?

all i care about is a superficial goal;
to be rail thin must equal contentment!
i don't feel as hungry anymore,
but am i sad?
i can't tell.
am i happy?
perhaps.
the sure constant is that i cannot feel.
i get angry, but i am not angry
with the fervor that i once had.
i feel the sobriety of the days,
nothing changes nor is out of the norm.
the funny thing is that
i constantly feel as if i were in an
inebriated stupor--
i have since february;
my question is when it'll stop.

i don't feel empty,
i do not want to cheapen myself
for 15 minutes of pleasure,
i don't care if i have companionship;
i am stagnant in solitude,
but i can revel in it.
who cares when i can leave the fog
of san francisco,
for the bright and warm rays of
san diego?
i honestly could care less.

pressing key after key
on this expensive piece of technology i own
at least gives me some solace
in the meantime.