i count my life in pages now
and everything is double-spaced.
i think in Times New Roman
(i used to fantasize in Courier).
i can't measure my life in coffee spoons
because i drink my coffee black;
and i always throw my teabags away
so i can't use those, either.
and coffee cups, forget it!
why pay for good coffee
when bad coffee is free
and i can wash the cup right afterward?
i eat dinner at ten,
breakfast at one.
lunch at five.
i used to wake up early
but now i drag.
i used to go to bed,
but now i just go to sleep.
i'll know when i have a drinking problem if i ever measure my life in beer cans
because bottles are so much classier.
i haven't cleaned in weeks
because i'm just so busy,
but not busy enough to stay away from impromptu "poems."
i used to be a poet, remember?
now i'm a student
and school really gets in the way
of good poetry.
you know you're grown up when you buy your first can opener.
i used to write songs for pretty girls
but then the pretty girls went deaf
(except for a few,
but they don't like my genre).
how can you sing to pretty girls
when you can't even talk to them?:
John Cusak did it right
(minus the stalking thing).
accomplishment is measured in pages now—
no more than five at a time.
i love my winter coat
and its little hood,
but i hate my winter coat
in the middle of October.
this will never see the light of day.
i'll just drink it away in a month and a half
when i (legally) can.