The First Existential First World Problem Filled Crisis of This Schoolyear: a vent poem of epic failure

a free job at 

recognizable golden arches, 

free food every shift

25% off otherwise,

stomach growing, thighs

thickening,

arms hardening and 

wrists hurting

carrying fry baskets

with two hands. 

eating out of boredom

staying up until 

three in the morning,

writing about people

never existing, 

voices audible but saying little

beyond laughter and 

crude joking 

nothing nothing nothing nothing 

failing tests in the middle of

second semester

of junior year

return to college

miss a prerequisite and 

fall short of 

the beginning of a nursing degree,

leave the textbooks in your backpack, 

sketch the image of the characters, 

half-hearted reading in the morning, 

sleep in during study time. 

a day before

attend the job for brief hours

of understaffed stress

of empathy sucked away 

change the bathroom garbages 

with the bags around the neck 

pull it jokingly a minute 

and later possibly conclude that

morbid humor

alone

isn't humor 

stuffing selves some more

spending sixty dollars 

on coffee, ice cream, fast and slow food

weekly

instead of utilizing

a well-stocked home. 

blowing gas money on 

days out with friends

and the constant constant constant

humor humor humor

nothing nothing nothing

writing things that may produce wonder

or nothing at all. 

ask 

everything 

everyone

tell all

use "I" 

take blame 

consume guilt, 

what else could one 

possibly need?