I am thinking about Friedrich Nietzsche's will to power.
While I do this,
I am eating bonbons on the couch
and thinking of having a second nap.
I find the juxtaposition absurd.
Maybe my driving force is plotting its designs
in a secret corner of my psyche,
detailing its manifestation
like the floor plans for a god's new universe.
Maybe the seat of my ambition,
the human drive for achievement,
is sneakily hiding
in the softening architecture of my ass.
Or maybe Nietzsche had mommy issues
and strange toilet habits.