April 2nd

2 Much 2 be-labor

a constellation of pernicious sinners
is better than one privileged son,
full of hyperbolic juices enough 2
render the cheekiest mother numb.

All the promise in the world mopes
on the living room couch- vexes
in judgement asking: What will I be?

I, the eternally put-upon, answer
my sole philosophy: Que sera, sera,
Whatever you will. Be.