Switching Majors

I used to sit under the same tree everday until I realized I was allergic to it.

It was my karma for skipping class and getting high. I walked so many miles getting to know myself you'd think it would have counted for something.

I was going to major in english but I realized that’s what wannabe journalist settle for. I think about teaching teenagers Hamlet and how everyone wanted to fuck their english teacher.

I'd much rather be drunk in the upper east side of New York City in some swanky dim lit cigar bar listening to someone slam a glass on the counter obnoxiously.

I wasn't one for settling, but somehow mediocricy followed me like as if I owe it this favor to have become such a martyr.

I didn't know much of how I was gonna keep showing up from here on but it’s better to comit. Half- ass is almost as bad as Hamlet.

I'm listening to this guy tell me a story about his job and what he has investments in. I remember the tree and how far from it we are here in this different dimention.

Cabernet rests by my cigarette and I tell him I don't have much a routine and it slowly becomes silent.

If you count the cars lengths in between my patients I promise you there would be more room in my casket.