There are absolutely enough hours in the day

What would you do with extra hours?

Sleep?  Hold your babies tight?  Work more?

I would take those hours and wedge them into those times

Those times when you only have half an hour

Before you have to be somewhere, do something

And so you can't get anything done

I mean, if I could do that, I would be drawing on of the dozen

Things I have to do

Instead of writing poetry that is basically

Status updates

Split into seperate

lines

In what can be kindly referred to as a mockery of free verse

Hmm?  That's not how extra hours would work?

They aren't just free-floating?

Oh well never mind, then

I guess

Life can be pretty hard
When you're caught in the crossfire of a mob war
And science has to rebuild you
But now your body is entirely comprised of guns

Who will kiss your gun lips
Rest a hand on your gun hip
Brush a few stray strands of gun behind your other gun
(the latter gun in that last line being what is now your left ear)

No one will
And I think that says something about society

I'm so old that when the singer in the bound band shouted "I'm Generation X" I questioned if that was a thing that should be shouted out loud
Truth bomb, it was Econoline Crush
I met the fifth Baldwin
And a guy who owns a boat
Oh, and some people who hate other people, I guess?
But everybody loves me, I'm great


"It's like you crawled into my soul and rolled its ultimate truth into a slip of lined paper, smoked it, and then shrugged at me."

"Is 'Wacom my airplane' already a joke?"
"You just combined a Sublime song and a Marley song.  Powder thinks you're too white."
"Napalm Death being anti-violence is like Chumbawamba being anti-getting knocked down."
"Also, I was hanging out in my own soul at the time."