a successful career is a jealous career
rising out of a desire to outdo a rival
until the rival is internalized
and is really no longer needed

so what is my place in this absurd chase
what is the reason i sit, sometimes through the night
typing away in a language invented by a man
who may've not lost his virginity until he was tenured faculty

do these dreams swimming in my head come
because of a thirst for comfort?
because i'd like to cover bills and thrills
without looking over my shoulder?

and as i keep asking such questions
the aroma of a romantic midnight depression
that lasts for a split second creeps up my nose
into my soggy brain, until i pee, and go to bed

tomorrow is a long day of typing
because the rival in my head
just may decide to take thanksgiving off
to see his family and hometown friends

thanks, sucker