I'm Waiting for Motivation

You've got to get up. We've got nowhere to go.

Just put your backpack on and we'll go to school and we'll point at everyone that isn't us, because look at what they're missing.

Let's ask off-white walls and American middle-aged men for heat, when we get there.

Just get up, you, ya scoundrel.

I don't know where we're going, you're right.

But I know that you're backyard won't protect us forever.

The bench is going to break in half from rotted wood.

And it's going to take more than haphazard white glue to point us in the right direction.

Great. Fifty feet and we're back laying on our spines in a fort of couches and blankets.

There's no one here, you're right, but time passes, even if it's covered by linens.

I know you don't want to get up. Me neither.

Let's at least go back outside and try to get a better tan than we're getting under here.