PANDEMONIUM Black, white, waking up in gray, Snack-pack belly, overconfident ray, Commitment issues, built like a beanbag, Still walks in like the room needs a tag. Found inner peace behind the fridge, there: was under the emergency list, One paw on the dumplings, one on consequence, Calls that balance and all agree. reflexes? Average maybe. Nothing profound. Till a wrapper crinkles somewhere in town, Or a scorpion screams, “GET OVER HERE!” practice mindfulness be fully present In every bad choice you won't understand No invitation, still having fun, Laughing too loud, something to hide, salt on the cheeks does not have a type, just opening hours, And somehow disaster gives him a pow. said he is working on himself these days, Ordering noodles, deleting the trails, Aura so strong when walks through the room, Smells like incense and someone else’s shampoo. Cardio terrible, lungs barely breathe, But say “afterparty” and he’s already there. No warm-up, no stretching, no medical chart, One word and starts singing but what is the plan? spiritual deeply, talks to the sky, “come, send me a sign.” Phone lights up. it says: “wyd?” swore off temptation for one whole month. Longest eleven mins of his life. Self-control legendary, or so what they say. Mostly because nobody’s seen it to this day. Then one night the room just went cold. Same panda. Same jokes. Same idiot grin. Only this time, nobody laughed. And something in him cracked. “Motherfuckers, you hurt me. Why?” “I only made you laugh.” “I only made the night better.” “I made an idiot out of myself so you could forget ” “I gave you every joke I had.” “So why the fuck did you turn on me?” Silence. He looks around. Swallows hard. Then: “...so nobody’s ordering?” Pandemonium, still alive, Heart got bruised but ego survived, Black, white, gray in between, Still the proudest disaster you’ve ever seen. Pandemonium, let them stare, He’ll bring his own appetite anywhere, One paw on the dumplings, one on consequence, No shame, no brakes, no fucking repentance. He doesn’t need sainthood. He doesn’t need grace. He just wants one good laugh before he wrecks the place.
