beat off,
run out,
and
left like
dirty clothes
to the floor–
my head
still sticks out
from some
neck.
i wake up
to headaches
or hard-ons
and rarely
pick sides
anymore.
the day will have me
according to its distance
from the sun.
the power-hungry
will remain crooked.
the species will overlook
self-recognition.
and war will maintain
a reach
farther than governments,
deeper than cultures,
larger than gods,
inseparable as
bees to flowers.
life rages on,
but i win
this battle
just by
staying
in bed.