Guess what?
Today, I didn't find the cure for cancer.
I didn't stay faithful to my wife. I didn't
call up my father and tell
him Happy Birthday. I didn't
bother to feed my goldfish.
Instead, I stayed in bed all day
and texted men and women
and anyone just as lonely as I am.
I didn't bother to separate the whites
from darks. I skipped breakfast;
had two large pizzas with
extra cheese delivered. And
you know what? I didn't tip.
I burped in the girl's face
told her it doesn't
get much better than this.
She smiled at me, turned
around and as she was walking towards
her vehicle, I whistled and said
Nice *** there, Sparky.
Then I was suddenly inspired to write
a poem about what I didn't do. And how
much I enjoyed being on the other side
of accomplishment, goal setting, and
your typical, modern bragging rights.
Today, I thought
being a sore on the mouth
of life was much more charming
than flaunting money. I thought
it best to be honest rather than
a sick, fat facade marching his ego
down the aisle; digging through the many
layers of the inferno.
If only mother could see me now.
She'd offer me one more cigarette
from her deathbed; make a racist joke;
hollar, hoot, and hack.
Then tell me she's proud of me.
And I'd shout, *you bet your *** you are!*
right back.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
Guess what?
Today, I didn't find the cure for cancer.
I didn't stay faithful to my wife. I didn't
call up my father and tell
him Happy Birthday. I didn't
bother to feed my goldfish.
Instead, I stayed in bed all day
and texted men and women
and anyone just as lonely as I am.
I didn't bother to separate the whites
from darks. I skipped breakfast;
had two large pizzas with
extra cheese delivered. And
you know what? I didn't tip.
I burped in the girl's face
told her it doesn't
get much better than this.
She smiled at me, turned
around and as she was walking towards
her vehicle, I whistled and said
Nice *** there, Sparky.
Then I was suddenly inspired to write
a poem about what I didn't do. And how
much I enjoyed being on the other side
of accomplishment, goal setting, and
your typical, modern bragging rights.
Today, I thought
being a sore on the mouth
of life was much more charming
than flaunting money. I thought
it best to be honest rather than
a sick, fat facade marching his ego
down the aisle; digging through the many
layers of the inferno.
If only mother could see me now.
She'd offer me one more cigarette
from her deathbed; make a racist joke;
hollar, hoot, and hack.
Then tell me she's proud of me.
And I'd shout, *you bet your *** you are!*
right back.
