I Am Slightly Less Depressed

A poem by P. G.

and what a strange sensation it is

to roll over

wiggle the aliens

on my hands and feet

like an infant, unswaddled

i'll clear the cobwebs

light a candle

in my brain

keep the boxes marked essential

throw the rest out back

for the bonfire

we will have

on my 25th birthday

we will drink and smoke

and laugh

about the fact

that it took so long

to clean the attic