a night

a glass of wine
and no ambition
what's left of your
today's mission?
accomplish much
or not at all
in the middle
surmise you'd fall
time is short
feeling little
taste the rainbow
bag of skittles
no props for my rhymes i wish
take some candy from my dish
to make you whole or make you gangster
three-sixty-four am i the prankster
minus april first you see
the day masses catch up to me
collectively
pee
every morning like clockwork
gangsters make their glock work
not silver spoon, but plastic fork
bacon, chops, wilbur, pork
crazy stories, baby, stork
ideal expressions
lost in thought
warriors fought
up in time transgressions caught
memories of no regrets
tied in first place idle threats

my hands they rot
away with time
them or anything sublime
realize this and you will see
this dream we call reality