Remember

For some reason I'm still sitting here. I'm fed--maybe too well, and I'm living indoors. Has my worrying done a fucking thing to get me where I am now, or has it secretly been pulling days off my life while I was busy wondering how the fuck things were going to work out? When am I going to remember that I've always been taken care of, that the universe has been one sweet sugar-daddy with my hand deep in its pocket. I'm a kept man, I just gotta remember that.