Unconscious. That is what I am.

I run into walls and didn't wipe
away all the *** when I
stood up from the toilet seat.

Angry too, because some days
mock us.
I barely stopped myself
from paying 8K in income
taxes for being in a hurry
to do something I was too
anxious to get done.

And we are all angry,
for being so mediocre,
but without any other
thing to praise I look up
to granola for being
the perfect compliment
to six o'clock Jameson's.

Later I will grade myself
a D minus for calling this
creativity, and stop
asking so many questions.


Sara Fielder © Feb 2021