I see writing and suddenly my brothers’ poetry comes to mind, and I realize his writing is not poetry, it is tragedy. Something we both share but we will never talk about it, it is not something we want to talk about.
I see pictures I the polaroid I never took becomes to clear to me. This photo is the still shot I wish I could hold onto.
Every time I see my friends change their style, they become a new person while still retaining their old personality. I will take the time to remind them of how beautiful they are.
I wish there was more I could say...
destiny happens in retrospect,
so take my soul and give it breath.
nostalgic polaroids over lunch,
they hit my heart like a suckerpunch.
i think back to the times when things were simple
i was merely a child but i remember it like it was yesterday
because we spent a portion of our childhood in the same place,
i constantly wonder if we ever coincidentally ran into one another
it seems highly unlikely since the city is a big place
but after all, there's always a chance
maybe we shared the same experiences as kids:
those hood ice cream cups i'd eat with a tiny wooden spoon
those dunkin' donut breakfasts my dad would bring home
those ten-minute drives to the beach on weekends
and those radio broadcasts blaring sports updates 24/7
maybe you encountered similar things when you were here
perhaps you came across other things that i failed to mention
but as of now, i just think it's beautiful how we exist at the same time
There once was an
awkwardly boyish man who
liked to pick his nose,
especially in public.
One day the man, upon encountering
a monolith of residue, picked too hard
and scratched the inside of his nose, which
began to bleed.
For the entirety of his day, he smelled
the gooey metallic substance swell
throughout his nostrils and tighten
into a scab.