although, incredible, the dogmatic pursuit of absent-mindedness, two left feet up the [redacted]

i would make a remark about how fast the time has gone
but i never looked up
to see it moving

wish upon a
wish upon a
wish upon a moribund eternally pessimistic star

[if i was a poem, dear disinterested reader, i think i would be a fridge poem. not very profound, nor eloquent, and rather insipid; though it's quite funny that i exist in the first place]

Me & Earl & The Dying Light Emblematic Of, Or Perhaps Symptomatic Of, My Interest In Whatever It Is You Have To Say

met a genie on a long road
delivered with the smoke of a cracked kitchen kettle
juggling three wishes
in his drunken monologue
like a blind man juggles bowling pins
and stupidly i used them all
on making the next few tomorrows disappear
                                                                                        and now i'm here
...

anyway how may i take your order?