Sure I could celebrate each day, but how exhausting,
I don’t even like going out for my birthday,
and at least then there’s sometimes cake,
no one gives you cake for waking up
and you’d get sick of that sweetness
just like any other if they did,
your teeth’d fall out,
just like in that dream,
the one that everyone’s had,
or so they say, me it’s usually school
or work or drowning, though I haven’t drowned
in a while, I’ve woken up screaming, unable to move
a limb or more, but always breathing, always breath
to scream, to yawp, if you will, and surely that’s a celebration.
Certain of Eventual Failure 