folder zero

there is a sickness in me that cannot be cut out

sometimes i soften it 

with sleep, diet coke, television

like everyone

you have to go to work, again

relying on life’s little pleasures to coddle you

sucking down sodas

your amazon cart, eternal

stockpiling for The Day When You Have Money

which will never come

things like

golabs wa1 collapsible folding wagon cart, max 220 lb load, expands to 100l

wow, 100l you say

and it has pockets

i need that

that’s worth 3 hours of standing up with a bent spine 

under a fluorescent light

sweating

thinking about community college in the fall 

when you would sit in the library and write, smoking couponed orange pall malls in the courtyard

already knowing you weren’t going anywhere

yet persisting

hoping one day you would have a real life

that somehow you could get from nowhere to somewhere

be out all night, come home, stay up some more

live with people you don’t like 

and you’re all poor and confident

about becoming well-adjusted people someday

but you have no idea how to get there

and how do you get from doing things like sleeping on a mattress with no bed frame

falling asleep with all the lights on and last night’s makeup

a laptop blaring pirated and out of order episodes of vanderpump rules 

right up against your face

with russian subtitles you can never figure out

how to turn off

you can’t even feel it

you never really sleep anymore, just close your eyes

and you’re supposed to go from that to

3 bedroom 3 bath 2 story balcony open concept kitchen natural light garden porch party infinity pool golden retriever 2 children boy and girl good school district no red40 perfect blowout room for growth work life balance madly in love sex three times a week and two bonus rounds on holiday summer house 20% tip figured it all out

nobody ever tells you how to do it

or if it’s really worth it to try

so when they mess up my order at chipotle

and brenda from corporate tells me i can’t get a refund

singing the email

thank you, and have a burrito-ful day!

and i tell her to go fuck herself

then she responds and tells me that chipotle doesn’t tolerate profanity

singing the email

thank you, and have a burrito-ful day!

it’s like oh okay, no problem

i’m going to kill your entire family

give me your address

i just wanted my $13 back

i just wanted to be happy

i just wanted to eat my burrito bowl

watch spray tanned micro celebrities argue

their jaws swinging under their deleted buccal fat

glossy from heat and hair spray

angry at nothing and drunk on the power of

having it all and being grateful for none of it

forget that i don’t have a yellow dog

or a big sexy box to die in

or a right to know what’s coming next

brenda

is that too much to ask