Dumb

I haven’t writ a sonnet in a while,
The hours spent in studying, awake
From dusk until the morning, for the sake
Of passing.  All the news I can compi-/le
Tells of fatter people, of debate
On sanctity of marriage, and of this:
A party where a night is sure amiss
Without a party (Hollywood).  The rate
At which I grow to care about the way
The president can raise his money is
Much closer now to nothing.  It is his
To run, and to attend, and if a fray
Ensues about a bash, then we are lost,
Attending mist when we are tempest-tossed.