Lying in bed, trying to think of something to do

eating popcorn, without entertainment

I have never understood how people simply

do

And they can’t wait to do it again

This is the best feeling

to have something to look forward to

but the doldrums eventually come

and I am stuck, trying to plan 3 months.

I try to understand my own psychology

so that I know the precise moments when I will get bored

a little boredom is okay, when you know, another log is coming down the river

but too much for too long

has me going into my hole again

where I give myself over to those mole demons

who steal everything from me, including the light, above ground

because they promise me,

“You will never be bored again.”

The perfect schedule

understands my inclinations

For instance, I can wake up at 5:30 or 6 AM without my alarm

and drink espresso shots

Then I read Bukowski, until the muse runs under my bed

and I start writing, to kill

that bastard

who always gets away from me.

the sun rises and the birds chirp

and the summer day starts calling my name

By 1 pm, I’m done writing

Usually, I have three poems or a good story

it wasn’t difficult—they came out of me, until there was nothing left

the trick is to stop lying in bed to find what’s left.

I go to the library, bike, hike, or golf

I tire myself out

by 5 or 6 PM, so all I can do, is learn about literature or philosophy

I meet my parents or hang-out with friends

but the real reason is:

I have stayed away from those mole demons

who promise me, “You will never be bored again.”