My legs weren’t really listening

My legs weren’t really listening
My arms aren’t reaching out
My eyes haven’t been seen in days
My hands are not about
I’m thinking, so my brain is near
But my gone mouth can’t confess
My joints refuse connection
My body is a mess

I can’t get dressed this morning
My chest won’t take a shirt
My feet have staged a walk-out
My groin has gone to flirt
My fingers? Scattered to the winds
My toes are scattered thither
My throat won’t amplify my voice
So I can’t call them hither

There’s some cooperation
My neck will give a hand
My thumb and finger diagram
Assisted by a gland
I’m mostly all together
Ready for this rat race
But there’s one part that’s still missing:
I couldn’t save my face.

my armchair is a congressman

my armchair is a congressman
elected by landslide
and now i have no place to sit
when i am really tired.

i'm not that into politics
those "vote for me" ad spots
i heard a chair was running
but did not connect the dots.

i like my armchair's politics
it won't stand for the poor
it brings comfort to the wealthy
but i'm sitting on the floor.