weightgloss

someday i'll be gone and some poor soul
will have to deal with all the crap i leave behind
and they'll have to go through a
ton of boxes and drawers
and they'll hold up some dingus and
say, "what the hell is this thing,"
or, "why did he have this," or, 
"does it even turn on anymore?"
and then some of my stuff will go to Goodwill
and some will be sold
and some stuff will get tossed
and my email acccount will just sit there
and this blog will disappear
and all the letters in all the words i've ever written
will be recycled and used somewhere else like
in contracts or on checks or in
some strange lady's terrible
romantic letter to a French jet ski model
who doesn't care about anyone but himself
and just breaks hearts left and right.
this whole death and affairs thing will be
a damned shame
and a real HASSLE for everyone involved
because everything i've ever said, done,
been, made or ruined,
will have to be recycled, destroyed, buried,
dispersed and sold
and it is precisely for that reason that
i'm just going to sit down
right here on this spot
and drink this here delicious root beer
and not give a shit about how many calories are in it
or what happens next when it's done
or where i'm supposed to go later or
what i'm supposed to do today.