It takes me
perhaps a few minutes,
at most,
to write a poem.

In the brief instant
between
creation and publication,
I am convinced
that this poem cannot be
improved.

But note,
it is never the claim,
that the poem is
any good.

I write
so that I may express
what I had genuinely felt
for a few moments.

I opened up so you could see
a broken piece of my humanity

And if these could be my last
few words to the world,
And if this could be my last
poem to be written,
Torned out entirely, but rigid inside
Sad by looking, but happy inside,
I would write, one word, "Companion".

I used to grow flowers.
Pretty little petals
Sprouted from letters.
Into pretty little paragraphs
Sprouted from words.

Now I only grow lonely.
Ugly little concepts
Sprouted from doubts
Into fetid thoughts
Sprouted from desolation.

I am vegan.
But you eat pizza with cheese sometimes.
But you shouldn't eat mock meat.
You have to justify why.

I am a feminist.
But I am a good white guy.
But then you hate men.
You have to justify why.

I am sick.
Of having to explain myself.
Of having to behave perfectly.
As soon as they label me.

I am tired.
Of saying the same thing
Over and over again.

And I wonder in silence
Why we can't all be
vegan and feminist.