to my lovely widjajas
a shit bowl crashes through the ceiling.
i brush my teeth,
wash my face,
put on my polka-dot pajamas
thinking, 'it's just a shitty
dream.'
maybe not, says
the shit
that
just
fell
on
my face.
i write a poem
and go to bed, shit-
faced.
Casper Fields
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-growing-up-means-to-me/
