They don't see it.
And it's frustrating.
And it's hard.
But hey, I see it,
I see it and it sickens me too.
I know the feeling, the wanting, the passion;
I know we must eradicate and sterilize and renew;
But you know it'd be genocide, right?
The death of a million yet-unmourned office drones.
And oh, the irony of the high school zombie,
this walking oxymoron, so alive and young
and fresh and full of promise and yet
Consider this day one.
No more being walked all over.
No more being **** on.
Those unwanted, rejected, ignored
“I miss you” exclamations are no more.
Gone is the day I waited
For a message back saying I miss you too.
Oh you hurt?
Try not knowing. I guarantee my pain hurts worse.
Consider this my broken heart’s
Glorious ******* rebellion.
Oh yeah, and ******* and space.
The space you want from us,
Is a cover up
For the space you want from me.
You know I’ll respect you,
You know I’ll walk away.
I hope it’s been easier for you
Because lately babe, things can’t get much worse for me.
Just one ******* smile,
Or just one text message saying
“You’re on my mind”
From you, would have lifted my heart.
© 2009 Michael Plum
Call a doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is broken/ leaking/ deceased
My life is worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover
How could you leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you return my stuff/ come back/ die
I'll never forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay
Your face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack
Your ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool
I will miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can be friends/ get away with it/ be together
I'm sorry you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call
(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
The birds chirp;
I hope what they're saying doesn't mean a-thing.
If it does, it's a shame I hear nothing.