saucers shouldn't fly

its a stirstick attitude

that sugars me

and in spite of everywhere

i can't drink a drop

like i was born today

tired as i died 

yesterday but newer 

the zombie doctrine

of never let dogs sleep

lying down

in a bed of my own making

i know better

i know worse

i know a sponge ought to be squeezed

dry when the dishes are done

i know where the hairs

on the rim of the sink

came from and why

i'm confused

but can't i be angry too

can't i hold on to you

while pushing you away

or isn't the coffee

strong enough