Telling myself I'm talented, pretending to be deep, fooling others into thinking I'm clever- enjoy.
i used to lock myself in a room and engorge myself
with $47 worth of food.
now, i don’t reach that cost
in a week: my budget
expands to cigarettes, weed, and booze.
i used to dream
about living to 100 and going to venice. now
i dream of being dead before 30 and decomposition.
you’re taking my mind in the company of pop inks, but somehow you’re the rarity artwork. i need to do anything to keep your viewing in every occurrence; it feels like our reality’s at edge and we’re right on the verge of sync, because only the moments you share to remember are the ones spent with your soulmate. and i want one of our films to speed up, so we could see the world so clear. because all i remember is the breathing of your breath to wrap protection around my thigh through body.
way too often i find myself asking favors from a god i swear, i know i don’t believe in.
reflection: i’m in love, i know i’m in love. i’m scared of people coming out knowing i have this vulnerability and tear me through the asphalt because i don’t want to earn his lack of adoration and trust. we could have been together. this entire time, but you’d be afraid i’ll hurt you in the end of this all because your fear has a more potent hold on you than i do.
just give me clarity, because this could all be false and i’m running on wrong convictions, i’m merely poison to your thoughts. tell me you love me, tell me you loathe me; i don’t care so long as i don’t have to be left in the dark to believe in the most painful and beautiful moments of my life reflect with those adjectives for you as well. because, fuck. you took the biggest hold on me, and i just need to know if there was ever a point of hope to it.
and now i realize
i actually did almost
grow scholarly of the triggers on your body.
you refuted the pleasure, and
where did that come from
and where did it go to after
back to me?
i could have unwinded your thread-
i’m a very quick self-teaching
student- if you had let me. but
i wonder if
that ecstasy would soon
be joined by fear.
are you scared that
i’ll construct you based on
an unintentional design that
makes you work
to center on me, like
you’ve been my trigger
for motivation to stay
on this part of the realm.
and is it because you know
you’ve integrated yourself into my mind and
you’re afraid of going to that same mindset,
or is it that
you beat me at the race: you’ve
gone farther off in this waste. and
you suddenly think i find you to be the
stuck in the background. and
in your universe am i the unrequited love interest
responding to you
with an ounce of clarity, rather than myself being the
one going for the stars by
launching off my backyard trampoline?
i wish i cared about what you think of me as much as i care about my fucking school work. i wish i could cast them to the side and not even care about the fact that i couldn’t give less of a fuck if you sucked it out of me. but instead, i take you like another piece i’m working on. another song to write, another poem to compose- just another piece to waste my time on.
the way you touched me that night can’t be excused with simply “whatever the birthday girl wants” that doesn’t happen. people don’t do those things with people they barely know. not with that selfless motive. not platonically, not completely, not that quickly, and that reasoning deserves no credibility in my philosophy.
marketed. that’s all we really are: marketed and commodified . industrialized to flawed perfections to give the highest advantage to nameless seats in corporations and mindless politicians. created just on the brink of liberty and individualism, but there’s still capital to be gained, a price to cook, a blemish to cover.
is the sign of being in love having 100% accurate recognition of that person in the crowd? or is it simply seeing them in every person to pop in you’re peripheral?
obviously i’m safe if it’s the first. but i think you’re everywhere, and that fucks things up.
i really wish there were exact signs.
i hate to think of that night. and also i can’t help rescreeening it. because i would be fine if i knew i was nothing but a senseless one night stand. but both times you said it wouldn’t be good, neither times you said it was because you weren’t interested or cared about me. so i don’t know the answer. if that whole night was a blank face, or if it meant as much to you as it did to me.