today
the entire world
was five minutes late for class.
i elbowed,
clawed,
tore my way
through the throng
lay gasping
like a drowning fish
on the doorstep
of psychology class.
you all need to get watches,
*******

determined as i was
to avoid joining
the zombie revolution
my dad went and bought me
a new phone
looks like i was drafted in
to the "smart" generation
hopefully i won't end up as stupid.

i think i should let you know
that you wouldn't just make an ugly girl
you'd make an ugly anything
because your mind
is ugly
and that every time i hear your voice
your drawling,
depressing,
slur
i want to throw my brain
out a window
into a vat of lava
i know this is all so sudden
but you **** me off
an' ****

dear
james,
i would like you
if you ever said
what you mean.
instead, you make up things
to make me think i want to talk to you
and then you proceed
to be the most boring human being
on the face of the planet.
your fake
peppy
exclamations
are deceiving,
tiring
and flat
after about four
hundred
of them...
i love you about as much
as i love a toaster oven
or any other
inanimate object
james,
dear...
you are so
boring.

i am a product
of this
society
i pick-pocketed
my personality
from a ghastly array
of tv shows
and teenaged drama
if you would like a re-run
of last night's
late night
sitcom
i'm at your service

i am a product
of this
society
if you want some fashion advice
from me
because i dress
so well
log on to
pinterest
they'll tell you
exactly
what i would
because everything i wear
no matter how weird
or ugly
i wear because
they told me
to

i am a product
of this
society
i do not
think for me
i have an iphone
that has replaced
the normal functions
of my brain
it remembers everything
for me
i know everyone
we talk
all the time
i text
really fast
i'm so connected
i mean,
i'm plugged into
everything...

i am a product
of this society
my thighs
don't touch
and a lovely
mountain ridge
adorns
my back
a cavern
in my
belly
come explore
me
a beautiful
bony
product
of this
society

I AM A PRODUCT OF THIS SOCIETY
and you all should really stop blaming me
for being a social deviant
for being unwilling
to conform
to this new normal
sanity isn't
statistical
and this isn't
1984
meaning:
just because a billion people
do this ****
it doesn't make it
right
doesn't make it
make
sense
i will not hold onto your tail
and follow you
blindly,
society
because you don't know
where the ****
you're going
anyway
if we progress
one more step
we'll all be
dead

little red,
you are here
to make it better
for everyone.
that is your purpose.
you are to make things
better
for your family
for other people
to make things
just a little easier
and if you are good
and kind
and nice
and fake
with a smile
cast
in plaster
maybe someday
someone will make it better for you
in return.
this is a cheerful fact,
little red.
why aren't you
smiling?
hasn't the
chalky water
and paper
dried
yet?
hmm...we might have to
reapply

some people are just cursed
with bad noses.
they could have an alright face
maybe even a really good one
but some out of whack
funky nose
comes and botches the whole deal.
p.s.
90% percent of the people affected
are bitter
*******
but i guess i can't blame them.

i have managed to evolve just enough
that i am no longer bothered by you.
i have someone i can fake text
a badly designed little game
meant for six year olds
that i can play
or i can
scroll
scroll
scroll
and pretend that so many other two demensional people
want to get ahold of me
i can do all this
in the most superior manner
and never even look at you
because you are three dimensional
and you are too hard to figure out,
process
analyze
you are simply
too big
for my screen...
i must wait for another upgrade
before i can open you
you are too
real
i cannot sort you out
into little
megapixels....
you will
break
me

My mind flutters,
A dainty butterfly...
Disquiet even over a nectarine pie,
Oft times the color allures;
A serrated edge attracts,
The stamen invite;
A pollinic conversation...
Little resting respite!

My mind flutters,
A distracted butterfly...
Does she not know;
She shall starve...
Concentration deprived,
Unable to trace the scent of the elixir;
That shall hold her high!?