my ears are ringing,
my ass is bleeding,
my sister finally called,
and I didn’t know what the hell to yell.
still, the day keeps going,
the body keeps improvising,
and somehow I stay here,
unfinished, but upright.
my tea is too hot,
my bald head is too cold,
every minor comedy
feels like a referendum on my life.
live your death
like every philosophy
is a referendum on being
too much of a quotable poem.