The dialogue in my brain
when I self impose disappointment
of myself
in myself
is
I wish I was dead
but I do not wish I was dead
I am grateful to be alive
I am fearful of dying
and wish champagne
was a complimentary beverage
at the continental breakfast
of a life that I am living
Please, Gods, make a one stop app
where I can pick, choose, and curate
weekends, vacations, and Sunday nights
and opt in to pay the extra twenty dollars
for guilt-free hangovers
on my days off
With you
