I am not an ordinary person.

I am no genius,
no artist,
and barely a poet.

I have no great life's work,
no opera,
no magnum opus;
but I'm no ordinary person.

There are no great lovers
waiting for my arrival
at the docks,
or morning my departure
as the ship sets sail.

No major sporting events
with crowds of fans cheering
and booing my every
success and failure.

Nobody takes pictures
of me or gawks at my pose.

Nor does anyone ask
for my signature
on their favorite
piece of paper,
which happens to be
stained by the ink
of my own words.

No one praises me
for my work,
or thinks I'm the best
at what I do,
whatever it is I do.

But I'm no ordinary person.

I have no son or
daughter to look up to me.

Parties aren't thrown
for me, and I am not
on the top of anyone's list,
not even the **** list
my enemies make.

I don't dance very well,
and I'm not a good singer,
songwriter,
musician,
or composer.

I'll probably never
be on TV or
in the movies,
no that's not
gonna be me.

But my life's work
is its happiness,
my operas are
my own personal dramas,
and my magnum opus
is this life itself.

For I am like you
the extraordinary person.

Ever hate it,
When people,
Fall in love,
With the wrong,
Person.

Most are,
So blinded,
By pointless,
Visions that won't,
Last.

They push,
Themselves to,
Believe that,
Everything is so,
Perfect.

When really,
Everything is,
Crumbling apart,
In their fragile,
Hands.

Who do,
They turn to?
Their best friend,
That obviously loves,
Them.

Ever hate it,
When people fall,
In love and,
Cling to a,
Person.

Like a sticky,
Glue, the residue,
Tries to cling,
And make its,
Mark.

Like a ***,
Pushed to the,
Back burner their,
Friend's heart just,
Waits.

For their is,
Nothing else one,
Other can do,
When they love,
Another.

Ever hate it,
When people,
Fall in love,
With the wrong,
Person.

Nothing could be worse
than waking up with your eyes sewn shut
from an ex-lover
with bad grammar
and a horrible taste in music.
From an ex-lover
that you still think about
but you don't know why.

Nothing can be worse
than a chunk of sour apple
logged in your throat,
in a room full of armless people
with no names,
(which wouldn't matter if they did
because they wouldn't be able to help
anyway).

Nothing will be worse
than trying to examine yourself
under a microscope,
with everyone you ever knew
watching and laughing.
Staring at you like an animal.

Nothing was worse
than saying goodbye
ten days before you left,
ignoring your calls,
your knocks,
your notes.

Nothing is worse than falling out of love.

I hope your plastic yogurt spoon
Breaks in your mouth
And cuts your tongue
And you confuse your blood
With swirls of strawberry

I hope it tastes good
Just like
When you cut my tongue
And confused my blood
With red wine
And acted drunk
And foolish