poetry month in the pandemic

procrastination and rough elation…
oh forget it all. I hate rhyme now.

I’ll never rhyme again. and don’t
even begin to chide me on
responsibilities, duties, favors due,

(don’t list, don’t list!)

I am indifferent to all, it seems.

through no choice of my own,
I phone in everything these days,

and nights too. if some inspiration
would rock me from my entropy….

but I’m mired in memes; fuck! shit, piss,

I could list the rest of the swears, only I
promised I wouldn’t get too lazy this week.