the struggling engine

Life is troublesome but I am untroubled.
maybe a little bit.
I take a bite out of my sandwich,
pastrami and sweet onion mustard
on whole wheat, mime shooting
my adversary through the wall.
When enough worries mount up all at once
they cancel each other out.
Grey day, shit day,
type of day you wouldn't care if
all the windows were boarded over.
I miss those dreams about running
on all fours.
Back before the writing fell out
like a bad tooth.
Still, there's a lot to be thankful for.
Food in the fridge.
Beer in the freezer.
All last night apparently.
Fuck.
But the weakened is here.
I love Fried egg.
Make hay while the sun is shining.
Roll in it when the sun goes down.
I need some distraction.
Some destruction.
Some simulated stimulation.
Tonight they're eating blue crab
and oysters
in a heavy crude oil.
Tomorrow I'll have Splattered eggs.