it’s not too hard for me to wake up and not remember my dreams at 5 p.m.
wearing my shaggy scraggly poor excuse for a beard
about my father’s vehicle stone reoccurred in the driveway of this messy house
revealing my blunt roaches in the ashtray
an accidentally pocketed lighter from the skatepark
my growing toenails and scent of used blankets
in want of computer technology, a shower, paranoia, and a bonus at that
shaking for empty cigarette packs
and this house cleaned by tomorrow
a fourth litter of kittens indeed shows an example of what nature and family have to offer happening live from my closet with the door open and light on
warmer in the garage, wearing only my underwear on an early late summer’s eve’, all to look for my dad’s two button up shirts he appears to be convinced that he left here.
he said one was maroon, the other, black with a palm tree
i can hear and see the rain through the window
as i wonder who wouldn’t want to feel redefined
when you too could bring your business to Space Suits By Jupiter
i woke up and wrote this all at once in early evening with an ink pen on a single sheet of notebook paper