there is little worse
feeling than waking
on a friday which
feels like saturday
after a holiday and
having to go back to
pretending to care
while the rest of
the sleeping city
dreams of long weekends

the conflagration of
celebrating different
mythologies into a
tapestry of rituals
culminating in the death
of the calendar year
forms a discombobulating
malaise of always feeling
as if something was forgotten
while several simmering skulls
filled with a foul array
of off kilter chemicals
congregate in fits of
ever deepening madness

now the roads are empty
except for the poor bastards
who have to keep the ever
failing infrastructure of
capitalistic condemnations
consistently grinding all
of the lower and middle classe
workers to stains for the
seething billionaires to scowl
down at from ivory towers
little more than ants aware
the hive is falling apart
yet driven on by the corpse
of greater years behind us

i should be still in bed
spending the day lounging
basking in the glow of
(insert religious fervor)
while my ever failing cells
do their best to churn onward
through a devastated hell of
cancerous insanity amidst the
demise of arterial collapse
in a state of constant anxiety
as everything erupts in a
choir of desecrated denials
rather than sitting in a car
headed somewhere far from
the solace of sitting at home

probably just angry over
having a headache while
the kids snore contentedly
knowing it is a couple
hundred miles to get back
to safely hidden away
wondering if any of this
has made anything easier
or if this is just a rock
to be pushed mindlessly
until my lonely heart
finally
mercifully

stops