Dandelion seed
responsibilities float
away on each breath
Procrastination
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Dandelion seed
responsibilities float
away on each breath
Weighing sleep against
productivity, I write
into a new day.
You still up? Dude, it’s
not like the internet won’t
be there tomorrow.
I would like to see
4 am start off my day
instead of end it.
Where did they go? Wake.
Eat. Work. Pay bills. Each the same.
Days blink by, all gone.
At the Happiest
Place on Earth, worn-out tots shriek,
deprived of their naps.
Fastpass, Magic Hours,
maximizing each for the
most fun possible.
Trying to make work
indulgent, a nine-to-five
wage slave’s fantasy.
Meeting tomorrow.
Haven’t even opened it.
That’s life on the edge.
Fine fountain pens, ink,
leather folders make work seem
like gracious living.