Cog in the Machine
My equine meal includes
the track and turnstile
in two medium pepperoni and sausage
crust stuffed and a liter of Coke
Domino's on speed dial is not a joke.
No sugarcubes or carrots
to remain woke.
My stomach envelops my hips
The pear shaped bod
has morphed into an apple.
Jiggly wiggly everywhere
My nose breathes air peacefully.
Fierce head, eyes focused, there
There is no option to look down.
My feet resemble horseshoes
and legs gallop at Sunrise to Sunset.
Trot 12 hours 6 am to 6 pm with blinders.
My vintageness, dare you place a bet?
Clocking out the tiredness
is an arthritic reminder
to my body's temple I
need to be kinder. And envy
is too strong of
a word that reveals.
My hobbies and classes have ceased.
Since I have become
a cog in the working wheel. Hectic hours
of the AM shift float to the PM
since CM's have called off.
How much more can I take
of this shit?
I mean shift,
No I truly mean shit.
ADL assistance and
the change of an incontinence brief
Even the seniors call them diapers
Not Depends or Always
must be done prior to bedtime sleep.
Damn it's 4:30 am. Time escapes me.
Stolen from the sandman thief.
Last night’s drink of envy
from my wine glass
chilled Cupcake Chardonnay
The 13 percentage dazes me.
I pour another drink in my head.
In eight hours I shall gallop
from the mane to the tail.
A horse to the work racetrack
smooth and sleek. Not the pace
of a snail. With blinders
to the starting gate.
My jockey prepares for the
Win, place, or show
Trot my hooves on the
smooth gravel and dirt
Run like my life depends on it
For the win, place, or show.
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