just as sleep feels so small,
and after three car accidents
we’re both mad at me, physically.
The unbeatable strength of
a call-to-action pigeon romance,
where eyebrow sweat becomes strength,
and if I wasn't so tired I would have brought you Taco Bell.
I have a stupid poem show tomorrow
and I want to fuck you, but I will probably fuck it up,
ending the night with garage masturbation
and something called Poetry.
What a tired today brings is beyond me,
especially when I say I am happy when I am not,
and I got Hanukkah on my mind,
but the rest of Hollywood to figure it out.