Today, lets enjoy the simple pleasures  
Whilst disregarding the morning luminosity
when the city wakes, our impulse to be fainéant grows
a comfortable silence, filled with slow music at a moderate level
whilst slowly turning pages of a book, dismiss time and live in the moment.
~Sunday

winter nights,
couch days.
sweater, socks and
no pants.
coffee with half a spoon sugar,
some days i like the bitter and the cold in the chaos.

I have no plans for after high school,
And man, I've got no fuel,
Sitting round' the house lazy,
Imma' end up in a whirlpool,
Letting the tide take me,
Letting the bride break me,
Letting the pride wake me,
Letting the guide make me,
The tide carries me to danger zones,
In this water, there's too many stones,
And all these crazy hormones,
Tryna' take me to ladies' moans,
Tryna' get me stuck and distract me,
Making me a schmuck avoiding reality,
I've been struck with insanity,
I'll let these waters pull me through humanity,
And now we're onto the bride,
That chooses not to abide,
By the law of love and life,
Which clearly states the following,
"Don't go out on dates for love you're just borrowing.",
Because there's no way to give it back,
That would just leave a hole or a crack,
In the heart of the one you stole from,
Leaving them broken, hurting or numb,
And then the pride tries to take over,
But I never let it get closer,
To my control panel,
Cause it would mess up the channel,
That my life is playing on,
From Saudi Arabia to the Amazon,
Worldwide, we all let the guide make us,
But don't let it take over, it'll break us,
It's the system, it's a down,
It's Hillsong, it's Chris Brown,
It's anything that can be imagined,
And anything that can't,
It could even be a dragon,
It could be an eggplant,
It grows on our thoughts,
So, we're all at a loss,
Because we won't stop thinking,
And we won't stop blinking,
And we won't stop drinking,
And we won't stop sinking,
In this well that we're digging,
But we still keep grinning,
And my eyes are stinging,
And my ears keep ringing,
Because something keeps on trying to tell me,
How to escape reality when I'm ready,
But I'm blind and I'm deaf,
And my mind is a chef,
That cooks up these thoughts,
That brings me fantasies,
Things that I'd rather not,
Keep in my mind, it's a fallacy,
And all it does is bring me agony,
See how fast the subject changes,
The thoughts flow, all these rearranges,
I better stop now, I could go on for ages,
Talking about nonsense, the pain and the painless,
But it's so hard to end these things,
That's why sometimes I end abruptly...

A little ****** of
sleepy conversation crept
in through the window.

It slowly sneaked in
and curled up on my duvet
and let out a sigh.

Therefore, I made a
sad, ****** haiku on it
and went back to sleep.

I scamp around trying to find myself,
All others say – you’re ******* lazy man,
I try to do something others don’t,
People say – oh, look at this child’s moan,
I want to be nothing like everyone else around,
They scream – so, you think you’re better than the rest of us and you want to fly off this ground?

I say – I want to, I try to, I dream no matter what
But in the end I realize, I’m just like everyone else in this stupid world
I’m rotten, sinful and full of ****,
And only with time I realize that I’ve been swallowed by others… and puked back into this dirt

Novelty delays fine work.
A lack of interest in persistence as it were.

Oh Novelty you and your cousin Naivety
wrap me in delusion and play on my vanity,
You tell me Rome was built in a day,
that riches come quick to those who simply play.

Oh consistency, are we here again?
The constant whip to push through the day,
I'd rather just theorize and think my way.

Yes, a lazy poet I am, I rarely speak of grit.
Such a millennial they say,   I think therefore I can.

I lived in a town where Sunny D dreams rested lazily on Mondays.

Nothing is go go go - no - it’s lazy to rise. Lazy to bed. Lazy to meet up with friends at the beach. Lazily chewing on donuts while we listen to songs that lazily leak through the teeth of our radio free censorship both lazily digesting in our sour guts making us lazy in the way we think. Feeding off the television, white noise static permeating the folds of our lazy minds. We now regurgitate headlines at parties lazily arguing, debating, though not a single thought is our own.  We are lazy in the way that we say we’ll accomplish something. Making up little kid dreams for broken promises of “I’ll get to it tomorrow”. But we never do. Never did. Just lazily puff on ***** shards. Our crushed bits of ignorance. Every night. Lazy sods. Working, sleeping, working, smoking, sleeping, working.
The cycle goes on.

In this land where time takes a nap. Where magnolia groves now rest lazily in the space of an old man’s memories.  You see, even time is lazy among salty air humidity that clings to lungs in a wet rag sensation so that we are lazy even in the way that we breathe. That’s why our grandparents tell us all those stories. So that we are not caught up in the lazy way light filters through the leaves of citrine sunsets that mingle into dawn.
Still, we yawn a question “what was I supposed to be doing again?” Here in this land where we all seem to exist in a static myth. Start another lazy day. Lost to IT. The big IT. The ever growing IT. The IT that consumes our lazy days with lazy work and lazy sleep and too much lazy play.

It’s easy here to let go of what this land used to be. Back when gold ships carried Ponce de Leon upon God’s wings to a place where Highway 19 was no pavement or brick or man made industry but rough and raw and hot
and undiscovered Timucuan territory. We effortlessly lose sight of our own history to lazy daydreaming  
That slow,
    drip
         drip
             drip
of time leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow
leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow
Until your future
   leaks into tomorrow
Until you wake up from this lazy hell.
Until you realize there is nothing left ahead on your lazy path
Until the future has become your present and you are out of
Days to dawdle and to say “I will deal with it tomorrow” before it all
None too slowly
Rather abruptly
Comes to a clashing end.

Writing to you
  made me endure the boring dailiness.

Writing to you
  made me forget my sorrows for a while.

Writing to you
  was like painting with my heart.

Writing to you
  was like loving you with my words.

I should never have stopped.

Its been a day
One of those gray
Boring
Days
A day where the rest
Doesnt feel needed
And the taste in your mouth
Of misery and doubt
Doesnt leave
Its been one of those days
Where every word you write
Every word you hear
Every word you read
Is just mush
Gray soggy mush
And everything that you love
Is faded
Unenjoyable
Boring
Its been one of those days
Where want and need
Are one in the same
And the lack of everything
Drills in your skull
Pounding
Knocking away
Reminding you of your prison
Of how you're trapped
Until the next day
Or the next
Its like you're always looking forward
To the next big thing in your life
But sometimes you stop
And lay down
And the whole world turns gray
And theres nothing you can do
So you wait
Until the next big moment
Then you do it all over again