Today I’m not going to get dressed—
not even a bathrobe or a towel.
Put it out of your mind and let’s continue.
There’s no difference between a vegetative state
and a state of unrealized content.
Between you and me I’m radically happy.
I haven’t suffered as much as others
and I’m relatively well read—
A bad combination so let’s move on.
It worries me what others are thinking about me
but I couldn’t say why.
The weight of mysteries is such a cliché
I pretend to know things
I’m only vaguely aware of—
soon, nothing will frighten me.
If I were a child again and my beautiful mother
asked me what I wanted to be
I would blurt out “a hunger artist!”
and proceed to spit out my food
to peals of laughter.
I’m mailing this to you from my bed
which is holding me captive.
I’m pretending to be a stuffed animal
mixed in with the pillows
not even using up
a minute of waiting.