Amidst the obnoxious crunching of Frito-Lays
threatening to submerge my thoughts in a pool of
saturated vegetable grease, I contemplate the futility of existence.
Yet fearful of becoming, God forbid, yet another everyday
run of the mill nihilist, I grab for a particularly promising
firefly of hope, only to discover that all 110 pounds of me
is perhaps 109.999 too many for it to bear.
And since dieting until I become shrinking to a .0001-pound speck
doesn't appear to be an all too viable option,
I let go before I drag the innocent little creature
down with me. Too late I realize
the last light of hope in the world is already nothing more
than an indistinguishable bug intestine mush
smushed squarely into the palm
of my tightly clenched fist.