for having to deal with me
and my bullshit,
but we all move
at our own speed limit
according to my life
and terrible driving.
It's raining outside,
and I should be inspired,
but laziness and lethargy
are both powerful forces
to battle with a bad back
and a penchant for poetry.
The tv is too loud,
the music is too soft,
and the neighbors
are ghosts, I think,
because I swear
no one sees them
but me.