i wrote another poem today!
i know that’s what you hope i’ll say,
but that’s not how it goes
so would you please just let it go?
i need some fucking room to grow
mushrooms beneath a sheet of snow
and breathe a little trees, you know?
the room is stale, the breeze is cold.
this mary-goes around again
my feet just left the ground again
i’m swinging all around again
i don’t think i’ll come down
can’t help you, i’ve got problems to
run from, but i might solve a few
once done and throw a barbecue
for fun, but bring a sponsor