a pot at infinity

you know that feeling you get

when you're not quite depressed

somewhere not fully stressed

before the black crows and before the rainbows

appetite's shot and the coffee's too hot

nothing seems to be a prefect fit

and the mirror distorts every day with it's 

habitual lies and moaning

stomach groaning 

from sugar rush and digested mush

those who have and have not

push you

you just might take a pot

at infinity.

You know that hunger that comes

when you hang by your thumbs

all cymbals and drums

all sticks and bones

everybody else face down in their phones

face full of fruit and fly by the seat

of your pants like some bitch on heat

you consider your options

you toy with concoctions

and memory plays tricks

like a slowed down eater

who is and who is not

open to taking a pot

at infinity.