I'm exhausted and
the lady downstairs is smoking on the porch again
and it blows its stink into my room
invading my breath.
If I wasn't so lazy
I would go out onto the balcony and
spit through the slats
washing her
and her butt
and stench
into oblivion.
I'm still worn from two days
of drinking and drugs
and real life seems like a distant memory
unbearable.
Three hours until work
or slavery
however you choose to view it
and I can't bear the thought
of their stupid faces
peering up from behind lists of food
not even worth a taste or a dump.
Happy Saturday.
Unhappy life.
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