A Number of Complaints I May Have on Any Given Day

I am tired.

I am tired of reading about love.

I am tired of reading about wars.

I am tired of reading about God.

I am tired of my apathy

and you caring too much about the world.

I am tired of your wet desensitized face

and my evil laughter.

I am tired of not enjoying wine.

I am tired of not enjoying you.

I am tired of sleep.

I am tired of sun.

I am tired of church.

I am tired of humanity.

I am tired of Shakespeare

and allusions to Henry IV pt. 1.

I am tired of watching television.

I am tired of thinking.

I am tired of not knowing enough.

I am tired of reading.

I am tired of writing.

I am tired of writing to be smart.

I am tired of writing to be liked.

I am tired of writing to be different.

I am tired of writing to be better.

I am tired of not getting any better at writing.

I am tired of not making any money.

I am tired of money.

I am tired of using poetry to escape.

I am tired of not knowing enough poetry.

I am tired of getting smarter.

I am tired of being stupid.

I am tired of tomorrow

and its predictability

and its mystery

and its chaos

and the revelations it holds

and its sobering wake-up

and drunk sleepiness

I am tired of wearing pants.

I am tired of being naked.

I am tired of seeing how much better you look then me naked.

I am tired of wishing I were you

and wishing I had your progress.