Ambition-to-wake groans, crushed and
Oozing like it fell in the back of city
Garbage truck
Manage to love the couch with base devotion
Sprawl and writhe, lie motionless as
Frogless pond scum
Instinctively remember the fetal position
These are things about which one should
Worry.
My skull is a cathedral dome, empty
Except faithed knowledge and hoped motivation.
I move to douche my brain of yesterday’s
Emotional excretion and every day’s before.
Rattle my pen across paper,
Scribble my theoried therapy only to
Discover accidental truths, patterns,
Lights of mirrored sight distance – illusionary
Duplication common in food court
Restaurants.
I have viewed every commercial,
Exhausted every episode of every show,
Befriended HBO like a feral and
Promiscuous college roommate
Living vicariously from my
Cushioned leather existence.
These are things about which one should
Worry.
December 12, 02
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