Post-College Blues (Yes, it's poetry. Read it anyway.)

I wait. And the world moves.
I sleep. And the world moves.
I sit. And the world moves.
I wait.
Until 2 o’ clock on Sunday the 9th
Becomes midnight on Saturday the 21st
I wait and I rehearse.
I plan and I sit…I haven’t accomplished shit
And all I have is a master plan
I stare. And I stand. As I wait for my piece of the pie to land
To saturate me with the sweet essence of success
I wait for life to clean up my mess
To undo and undress
To cater to and to heal me too
I wait. Until I can no longer remember the date
Or the time…your name or mine
I’m too busy waiting; too busy parlaying on the corner just beyond my dreams
I’m too scared to find out what “a life worth living” really means
I’m too intimidated by what could be
Too terrified of what would be
If I were to get off my ass and give the future a chance
So I wait as I stand
Then extend my hand
To a sky that has nothing for me
To a God who has learned to ignore me
When I beg for a life that I don’t need
He has the homeless to shelter
The hungry to feed
He isn’t concerned with my aimlessness
He isn’t moved when I tell Him my life is a mess
My potential is up to me to use
My mind is my own to abuse
No one is going to put the food on my plate.

Yet and still, I wait.