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One by One

Mainly, I like to lay in bed and have sex. Sometimes sleep. I have an alarm clock. The alarm clock pretends to sleep, but I know the truth. It is watching me. It is waiting to spring out from the dark and scream, "GO TO WORK NOW BOY! GO TO WORK BOY!" and I shout back, "DESIST YOU FUCKER! I CANNOT STOP LIVING RIGHT NOW!" I end up at work. Dreaming of the bed and dreaming of sex.

I don't give them my whole self. In fact, I'm half asleep. People come up, make sharp sounds, and I tell them we have no carrots. It's a zombie's paradise. Official title: Produce Clerk. The grocery-store El Lobo. Enemy of the Overweight Disgruntled Deli-Women Collective (ODDWC). We are paid nothing and do less than that. We do a negative amount of work; we destroy instead of maintain. Our produce is riddled with surprises. The next day I barely remember carving faces on the potatoes; never will I give them my whole self. NEVER! Only eight hours of each day of my whole life.

When I got out of school I thought I was supposed to be free. Thought I could just, oh maybe; lay in bed have sex all day? Two layinbedhavesexalldays, please?. School was easy. They wouldn't let you quit but you could skip. Now the kids can't skip, the cops will shoot them. If I couldn't skip never would've read anything good. It's a real shame. Somedays I want to shoot the muskmelon; pop them off, one by one.

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