Fatigue for breakfast.
Exhaustion for lunch.
Dinner was a bowl of captain crunch.

Sleeping kills too much time,
That I thought it redundant.
But maybe I'm just avoiding the plunder
That's nowhere near subtle,
When you burst into my subconscious.
And rake nostalgia
into piles of sentimental movie clips
that could only make me weep.

Nostalgia is incessant.
It victimizes the past
And reminds me of all the things
that didn't last.

Fatigue for breakfast.
Adrenaline for lunch.
Afternoon tea was a joke.
And dinner?
You're a humorous bunch.