Pick small bits away
From the moment.
Highly regarded,
Slowly degrading,
Listing the faults
Developing gently.
If I shouldn’t be alive,
Why breathe?
Difficult combinations
Of outcomes
Come with
Time.

My poetry would improve
If I could write while dreaming

To all the ungrateful ******
that felt me up on the back seat
in some unknown parking lot
because you wouldn't spring
for a real date
Perhaps your waiting for me
to bled my angst onto this page
Pffft
Don't wait!
If you've decimated me
into tiny parts
where slot A no longer fits
for your tiny part B
you don't deserve to be carried,
vaunted upon a poetic chaise
it's a pathetic waste
of my Joie de vivre
I can't read another word
of You were my one and only
until you left me
so I'm just going to keep
writing about
how good I was for him
and how he doesn't deserve me
Because He doesn't care!
He's down and *****
on the back seat
in another unknown parking lot
with another faceless name
for him, it's freaking hot
So stop spilling your life's blood
upon an empty page
Pick up, move on
Discover life after ungrateful ******
Write something that will live longer
than just your age