Brain Bugs
I wish I could throw chores in the trash.
I’ll have to go to school someday.
I can’t make my bed.
Brush my teeth either.
Until my teeth start clawing so much that I wake up.
Eat and do dishes.
Gives me flashbacks like I’m on the moon!
Wrung out like future spinning cycles of laundry.
School bothering me as if they are shoveling trash heaps on me.
It would be easier to throw away my shoes, clothes, and dishes.
Just like it’s easier to throw away:
Newspapers, apple cores, and empty bottles.
Some things hurt more than trash.
For three hours sitting worked well for me.
Almost catatonic, like lunch time and there’s a sandwich in front of me.
Tapping toes like a happy can of soda.
I’ll never get anything done like that again.
Like when I was a kid, and I got an allowance.
Well, I suppose…
The next time I wash dishes is coming soon.
And I promise it will be revealed to me someday.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
