Listless Lists

While laziness kisses my lips, a dozen chocolaty chipped cookies make their way to my hips.

But what manner of man am I, to fret over such frivolous things?

I have never butchered a once living beast, nor have I dipped a wax wick into a candlestick…but Tollhouse and I have kicked it with the Crocker’s every night since the illustrious Sweet Tooth Mutiny.

And now heavily sedated by sugary venom I think of things imagined but unfinished…

Tall grass grows where my lawnmower once roamed.

Tree branches loom where my chainsaw once danced at the end of a pole.

The water runs green where the filters once were clean and choking with thick chlorine.

And tool after tool must join to gather their dust as celibacy pervades over their creationist lust.

What manner of man am I to leave chore after chore at the door like a whore?

Oh, to lose myself in the translation of lists unfinished and unfortunately unforgotten?

Short lived, say I, as my man cub tries to claim his throne by beating me senseless with plastic spatulas and misshaped Tupperware weaponry.

Could this be the manner of man I am, bench warming the seat of tomorrow while my children plot my demise?

Take it, the future is yours.

I will cheer eternally on the sidelines.