What do you want?
What do you really want?
How does it add up
to all the things you
think that you’ve
accomplished?
What do you think you want?
Do you even know?
Have you even considered
the possibility that
you’ve got everything you
ever really wanted?
Because odds are,
you probably do.
Or odds are,
you don’t.
Either way,
I don’t know anyway
so stop asking me for handouts
baked and glazed and fried
perhaps
stuffed and frosted
strawberry
blast
long and round and twisted
-even holes
four pounds per week
i can eat six in a row
i want to smoke
i want to swear
i want to escape,
the hum-drum,
ordinary,
day to day;
to find more
to do more
to be more,
but for now
i’d settle
for just a good smoke.
The only thing worse
than the mystery meat
hovering around the
bottom of my bowl
are the hearty burps
that are my only defense
against the coming vomit.
the sieve and the sand 