Shisha and Dr. Pepper

Extemporaneous outlook on existence,

never validated impromptu
pulling of proverbial
wisdom teeth.

Malnutrition incorporated corporeally,
and otherwise.

Mental roadkill on the roadside
of my mind.

Skunk-fume imbued
with residual overdue
psychological bullshit
yesterday’s philosophical rainy-day news.

Banality in view,
rapidly approaching the screen.

I’m working for Wednesday,
and its promise of
seven solid hours of sleep;

grinding on the subsistence of 
shisha and Dr. Pepper,

hoping these days glimmer

I can’t complain,
but each day morphs
into the last;

like eye droplet candle wax,
into the next.

Time is a chess match,
and the bitch
took my queen
a dozen turns ago.

Willie Watt


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