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.