Forget You the Days
I’m here. I’m in bed, though that’s been a different place every night these days. Tonight it’s in a hotel, awaiting my best friend’s wedding. Last night, it was in a rock of a dorm bed, sifting future thoughts, tomb sleeping.
You talk like this when you’re exhausted, trust me.
And I’m exhausted. I may as well have a baby, with the amount of sleep I’m netting lately. But no, no baby. Just brain spawn, mind spit up. So many life diapers to change, toys to pick up.
There’s too many of them, so instead they sprawl. A paint gallon red across the wood floor. A door. An open, a shut.
A help me, I can’t. A never, a won’t.
Stubborn life, get over it. Wife yourself into shape.
Fake it till you ache it. Praise, aways.
Snuff me a life ciggy. Haze, amaze.
Hurt you my hand. Forget you the days.