Thoughts While Eating Greek Yogurt with a Baby Spoon

there will be a day when you will wake up, look in the mirror and have no facial features, not even eyes, and you’ll beg the question, “did i ever need them all this time?”

and all of the politicians will have turned to fleas

and the sun will have a bite taken out of it

and the postmaster will drive a dump truck and run down each and every last mailbox before replacing them with bird houses

and you won’t be able to find your parents because they’ll be dead

and your friends will all be eating celery and peanut butter poolside but will insist they are at the urgent care clinic with a cough

and the concrete will burn the palms of your hands as you walk barefoot

and the sky will look like a computer’s motherboard exposed to be doused by cheap cola

and you’ll try to spell your name out in your head but only smoke will fizzle in the cranium cavity like from a snuffed candle

and the market will be overrun by raccoons seeking pennies to forge themselves a home in the suburbs

and nobody will care for clothes anymore; the nipples will be free at last

and your best companion will be your worst enemy, and you will be unable to decide which role they play best

and your taint will smell of peaches and your armpits of lilac

and we will all wipe our filthy mouths with the back of our filthy hands and promise never to use another napkin as long as we live

and the planets will align and refuse to budge

and the ocean will fold in on itself before slithering down the drain at the bottom of the Pacific

and the fish will beg the gulls and pelicans to eat them up because suffocation is too difficult, too useless

and a young boy learning how to masturbate for the first time will pop a pimple on the tip of his nose, and the whole of existence will blink to black like on the nights you fell asleep before you could finish saying your prayers