Very Untitled

How do people have kids at this age? I can barely handle wearing clothes or eating. Let alone cleaning up the various piles of health hazard that are accruing about my living space. They aren’t even fast moving, that’s the sad part. It’s like watching a night ambush, or a soccer game wherein one team is sober and the other has been given ambien. I have a bad tendency to brag when I’ve been given a lot of easy tasks and then hurt myself trying to keep up with the persona I’ve invented. Situational masks with spikes on the in. Night zzzzz

And rain fell on my speakers

the world was new, again,  

and the dull hiss of a paper cone 

was profundity, intermitent

doubled upon itself with cries,

with pain

and my stomach. The world was new, again

profundity left when we found out

I couldn’t eat milk without

burning from the inside out

pain left me 

for an easy fix, arthur

rimbaud sinking into 

anonymous times, dark paris winters meaning

only a little to this world,

that would never be so cold again

as long as we give it 

mediocrity