no thing like nothing

my gut tells me quit killing yourself
i say gut you can take more than
you give yourself credit for
after all you survived all those years
compacting honey bunches of oats
drowned in sweet cold milk every morning
and like clockwork you'd go boombastic
once i was on the bus
and the only way i'd make it
was by keeping my eyes shut,
as if i were asleep, as if i didn't notice

my wrists are like dude, what the fuck

my elbows cry out for elbow pads
where can i even get elbow pads
my bones have sounded the horn
that started the war between skin
and bone let's see who will win

i consume another 2000 calories

something's telling me quit killing yourself
what's it to me, i ask myself,
and i take my questions quite seriously

what's it to me