C.O.D.
C.O.D.
I knew a woman
who was so fascinated with youth
she stopped counting days
as if in her own way
to put off age,
weighing me
was her measure to see
the purpose of why
human beings bleed,
push, scratch, and kick,
yell, scream, and spit obscenities,
I busted a toe on my way out
and while her words bruised my ego,
they could never hurt me.
The fact that we could be
only a chapter
in someone else’s autobiography
shouldn’t keep us from trying,
and while today’s scene
chooses that last Instagram meme
over Greek philosophy,
you thought you dreamt in pictures
while I think in words
and see dead people in my newsfeed.
Tell me I’m crazy
if I think I can make it
writing poetry and screenplays
while I spend my days driving on the freeway,
I just know
that I’d like to die with no regrets,
and how I don’t want to forget that smile
on your face when we first met,
like the promise of spring
your skin beaconed to me,
but I don’t know if the sun
will burn past summer,
because while what the world wants
is quick fix I’m a slow roll,
but baby once we hit the downhill
you’re in for one a hell of a time.
Like litter on the roadside,
we didn’t put it there,
but if we say we’re going to care
then we’ll jump off our high horse
put our hands in the gloves
and do the work,
has this been worth it,
has the time
that’s been invested
been worth the energy expenditure
or if you’ve calculated the ROI
and not liked what you’ve seen
with your own eyes
then don’t even stop the car,
but piss in a bottle
roll down the window
and throw it over the windshield.
You’d think
with the gloom and doom
on the news,
that in the street
you’d hate me
and I’d be oppressing you,
but our generation
is too stuck up
their own asses to be racist,
a 9 to 5 face that is
at odds with
how the most recent
OnlyFans post hits,
and that Mr. Frost said,
“Has made all the difference.”
But tell me that this hasn’t been
the same kind of diversion,
a beginning I’ve seen enough times
so like a psychic I think
I can predict the ending,
you would have never guessed
that the one with the biggest fears
is the man who can overcome them,
a contradiction to believe
that a diagnosis from the coroner
is more than just a job duty,
life meaning more about than
just laying underneath a sheet,
a hand writing
the Cause of Death
without even blinking:
PROCRASTINATION.