Monday, December 1, 2014


no more late night confession booth sitting.
i want you to want to talk to me for some reason,
but more quickly now i want to hang up.
or just delete your contact from my phone
because it was long enough ago. i didn't like the fight.
i giggle my intellect with the look of persimmon leaf
for a second before i disown my desire to write about
just it. it's dark. i yelled. i yelled slogans with a
cracked voice. a bunch of strangers and me kept it up
and a few friends i don't know much about.
somewhere in my head or throat, rotten
is reminding my of a poem i wrote not that long ago.
my strong feelings are from memories now, which is why
i don't feel in love with you, who i shared no
memories with. making it up used to taste ok.
it's changed to like the smell of synthetic fragrance.
why would i want to cover my body with that
horrible thing you are.

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