Poetry

Spooktown, 18 (292.)

I’m supposed to be
smart about energy,
but most days I waste a ton of energy
wondering where to expend effort.
If ever there was a slim possibility
that an overthinker is sitting down,
conjuring every potential outcome of
every situation,
it’s all me.
Oops.
Every time I think I’ve found
the simple solution,
I complicate things again.
I know I’ve got it wrong,
but for real,
KISM:
keep it simple, man.
Just wake up, get shit done,
go home, and call it good.
Just call it good.
Please just do it.
This has been another self-
flagellation session
brought to you
by little old me.

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