Death my darling
I keep writing you
because I'm finding it
harder
and harder
to talk
to people
and not feel
empty

I dreamt last
night of a long
lost friend
which was strange
because I hadn't been
drinking
and this friend
talked me out
of suicide
even though I wasn't
considering it
and I almost reached
out to her
when I woke up
but that would
be worse than
suicide

They say you
can't
truly know somebody
until you
see them
hurt
so I write
these words
and peddle emotional
****
for the lonely ones I'll
never meet
in an effort to
better get to
know myself

I keep coming back here
because I crave the rush
of putting words down
and pretending they are
totally original all the
while holding casual
disdain for how this
digital medium rewards
punchline after punchline
and punishes exploration
and long winded
discussions about existence
because even art needs to
fit into our busy schedules

Every day brings a new adventure!
or so the sign had told me
hanging so delicately
on some sort of kombucha based
drink
as though I could augment my life
and invite adventure in just by
drinking a drink
but that's how advertising works
I suppose
and we must be above the ads
because we are all independent and
free
unless...
that too is an ad
and the revolution has been bought and sold
and we are all just loosely strung along
quirks
that are indicative of our specific
ideals of humanity

here's looking at you
white dude with flannel and dreadlocks
and Rastafarian colored shoes

here's looking at you kid with pompadour
haircut, pastel shorts, and a MAGA hat hanging
off his backpack

are we all truly going our own ways
or are we just advertisements for
something better than
being unknown
and undefined?

He liked to use
clip-on promises
because it was so much
easier
than learning to tie knots
and facing down the
fear
that you could strangle yourself
if you weren't careful

Tired again
perhaps depressed
or maybe just bummed
but I can't really tell
as I walk through this haze from
one dream
to
the next
and people are
starting to blur
and are as
melodramatic as
ever and
really I
just need a bit
of sleep
so that I can shake off
a bit of the dust that has
accumulate in my
eyes from being
awake all too
much

It's not about
fiery passion
challenging the sun
but rather about
the moments
during movies where
she gently elbows
me in the side and
points
with a smirk
to tell me that the
man on the screen
being particular about
his food reminds
her of me

quiet nudges
have moved mountains
more than fire ever
could
in our journey together

Monday again
and the wheel
is flinging mud
and my sister is
frantic because
my brother might
be joining the
Church of
Satan
which isn't much
of a
threat
in and of itself
and I need to go
grocery shopping
but instead
I'm trying to put
my stress
into verse
as a means of
emptying
the overflowing cup
that holds all of these
thorny blessings