I always just...
stop.  stop this now.

You made the hole
you took the shovel
and you made the hole.

You bought daffodils
you took your time
you dallied you
thought this day
would never come when
you would have to
grow up, face the
sun and hit the
wall.

You asked for them
to let you,
fall, thinking, hoping
that you were never
going to be the
kind of person who
tumbled.

as if you
were special, were
different from the
status quo of other
quarter century
beings lost in
a crowd of crows
picking at the
remnants of a hopeless
future,
after the crops of
university knowledge
failed.

and now, in this
coffee shop where
you wait for
tips, you remember that
you once wished for
anything but
the tracks you
were in.
the ones for your
career, that you were
so weary of.

before even
starting.