When I sleep poorly, I harm myself,
not with pills or knives
but doughy pizza and poker.
These might sound small—verily they are,
but I’ve avoided loving any people who die
and only been once dumped,
on my quest for #2.
Still a kid, a spoiled millennial,
these problems equate to self-inflicted boredom.
The world will crush me. It crushes us all.
Build your ark. Recession’s a-comin’.