An ode to laziness

Speaking of lousy poems... I thought I'd make Vonnegut proud and be open about one of mine. I wrote this a few weeks ago when I was feeling incredibly guilty about my lack of motivation, but somehow not guilty enough to actually do anything about it.

"Tomorrow"

tomorrow I will.

yes, definitely.

tomorrow I will
accomplish so much:
I'll join a gym and work out immediately
this will result in habitual exercise
and a perfect Pilates body.

next, I will write
accomplished and beautiful works
from prose to poetry, essays to screenplays,
my work will touch millions.
This will lead to my Pulitzer
and a life of luxury.

tomorrow I will
discover all the answers to my happiness
I'll know what to do, and when, and how.
My wisdom will inspire others.

yes, definitely.
tomorrow I will.

and since tomorrow
I'll be so busy,
tonight, I better rest.
I'll continue to lie (or is it lay? I'll know tomorrow)
in my bed, under this blanket,
surrounded by my cats and books.
I'll write miserable poetry
I'll watch ridiculous romantic comedies
then I'll fall asleep with the lights on
worn out with the thought
of tomorrow's busy schedule.