I placed a layer of salt

on the edge on my ceiling to ensure

that I would not wake up

to gallons of flooding little faults

that had very little to do with me.



I set up shop in order to protest

the last part of a legislative article.


I had died several days ago, but my
farcical sense of humor had bemused
and encumbered me to the point that I would
never could what I had, because I hate myself
and I feel bad.

Instead I popped up a hopeful hopperfull of plenty of popcorn
smothered in butter and unsolicited carbs.

It's living large,
because now I know I'm not starving.

And turns out that just because I'm not unhappy or thriving
means that life is worth living,

and it's nothing.

Not worth my time to wonder and marvel at the life of other people.