I’m living in the future.
Things are ******* great.
I am so ******* grateful
for the thing I ate.

The skies are filled with drones.
Humans lose their homes.
People crash into walls
staring at their phones.

Smoking *** is fine.
Being gay is cool.
There goes another kid
shooting up his school.

The tv is so loud
I cannot hear me think.
I curse and scream
and slam the door and
pour another drink.

The President is black.
His whitehouse is all white.
He spends a trillion dollars
so things will be alright.

my dog is a doo doo machine
my tv is a brain blender
my refrigerator is a blubber bank
my window is a speeding by car noise speaker
my computer is a magic box so I can see what someone I don’t really know is eating for lunch box
my hands will wiggle around and hold steering wheels and punch buttons for a few more years until they stop wiggling and lie still and then probably get burned up
my bed is a wake up in the middle of the night and worry about life machine
my friends are a get me drunk machine
my clock throws minutes into the garbage can
my calendar lets months rot on the wall
my future is a movie poster about me being rich and famous that yellows and curls off the wall and falls on my poor unfamous skeleton

Mournful melancholy
is a frozen staircase.
The ice is blue and white
and it cracks in the spring sun.
I slip and hit my head
and stare up at the sky.