a man sits on his porch of adjacent pities.
Under fingerless stars he hears a whisper of the night
enter his cerebral consciousness that he knows is not there,
wishing he could —and if at best he could, he would —
wrap pennies in cellophane and call them candy
finish strokes of luck to find the riverbank yellow
run to exhaustion of the north and feel blood overflow.
And going deaf until he passes his tawdry window
and realizes his alarm clock illuminated by the outside swelling moon
and finding himself hearing every minute sound of existence
from just outside his windowsill. He can feel it
from his sorrowful core as he absolves himself
from everything and yells and screams and yowls
for once in my life i have a bunch of money that i actually earned and isn’t my parents’ and can spend on whatever i want and i hate having this much freedom with it because i feel like i make really dumb decisions when it comes to money ahhhhh!!!!!!!