This problem I have, I must admit.

This juice box craze – it’s overwhelming.

With just one sip, I begin to slip.

Before I know it, I’m 3 boxes in.

The pushers, they give you one for free.

That’s how they get you started,

How they get you hooked.

Every time I get that feeling, that itch,

Like a needle to a vein,

I slip that straw right in.

100 percent juice,

But I know it’s not real.


Just a slight bit too long,

Dragging everywhere.

Dirt along the bottom,

It catches dirt and hair.

I’ve gone to see a man,

A specialist of the sort.


He was taking far too long,

I couldn’t stand it any more,

Something snapped inside me

and I yelled out, “Damn it!”

He looked up at me, wide-eyed,

So I said to him,

“Please, sir, come size me!”


The Passed Over Seeder

Sirens blazing,

My heart jumps.

Panic ensues.

The sound grows louder.

I get rid of the video

I had just downloaded.

Red lights burst

Through the windows.

Sweat runs

Down my forehead.

The ambulance

Passes my house.

Close call.



I take my rings off

and place them on the counter.

I reach for the knife

as I rinse my onions.

I think of you coming home,

my eyes begin to tear.

I wipe away the tears,

only to feel the burning sensation.

I rinse away the flames.

The smell yet remains.

My Gaius

The fire grows,

I’m Drenched in sweat.

My hands grow tired,

My cheeks are sore.

With all my might,

I blow all day,

Well into the night.

I keep in mind, Gaius Pubis,

Our beloved leader.