new year’s eve, or saturday

it’s sunny
as if even the
universe itself
in its ever
expanding
negligence
celebrates the
demise of this
year of utter
abandonment
as if this
eventually
all consuming blot
at the center of
this wobbling
trailer park of
a solar system
gives two fucks
if the pervasive
sense of a full
foreclosure
of hope ticks
over into the
new calender
that the number
rather arbitrarily
assigned holds
the sudden key
to a rebirth
into equal
opportunity

the only ones
who benefit from
calling a random
day the beginning
of a new year
are the bastards
that make calenders
while the rest
of us spend a few
weeks writing the
wrong date on
our paperwork
living in the same
monotonous torture
with a shiny new
designation to
assign blame upon

i already hear
lamenting about how
poor mercury
who has never done
anything to anyone
being a cinder
spinning in front
of the gluttonous
indifferent sun
is in retrograde
which makes as much
sense as long dead
star clusters
in a vague
if you squint hard
and really imagine
possibly animal shape
somehow determines
your personality
is starting the
new inaccurate year
with ill intentions

but i am told
that is a scorpio
thing to say
as i bite my tongue
hard enough to
taste blood

tomorrow is just
another day
in a long line of
shitty days
despite the use
of metaphor to
try and pretend
we are tired
phoenixes about
to rise from the ashes
we can only do
our best tomorrow
hopefully the same
as yesterday
and accept the
diminishing returns
of chaotic entropy
without giving
cigarette holes
burned into the
nighttime sky
any credence over
our own shitty actions

happy new year
or happy tomorrow
whatever meaningless
adjective you need
to get out of bed
and continue on
through another
increasingly faster
revolution through
this catastrophic
anomaly that
accidentally evolved
into a species of
meandering meat puppets
with crippling
anxieties so
desperate to assert
a sense of order
just so they can
blame the universe
for whatever
petty woes
happen to be
consuming them
today

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