i think of you in a way
that i am not supposed to
with myself i play
while the thoughts of you flood
my head- all day long
and now those songs
that are about steam and ***
are making pretty much sense

what is it if not attraction?
is craving your love, more than mere transaction?

because i want to make-out
under the starry sky and cuddly clouds
but then leave it there
somewhere
nobody will ever know of us
or about this hour of oxytocin rush

you don't look at me ever
and maybe belong to another
and that's why all i do is write
poems that you'll never read
so whatever this is, i try to fight

you too aren't worth the effort
like no guy was
but all i do is blurt
words that mean nothing to you
why is it this sad always
why is this the case
i wish i could simply be a machine
running on gasoline
with no feelings or desires
keeping myself away from liars

and what are we if not a bunch
who all have this hunch
to be happy for screens
yet miserable behind the the scenes
with deep-rooted longing for affection
yet living "no strings attached" because we're afraid of rejection
what are we if not pretty pretenders
posing in "black & white" even if we love lavender
netflix has become our reality
while we live in instagramic insanity
we're no longer doing what we like
we're no longer liking what we do
there's nothing that makes our pulse spike
"*** is happening" we have no clue
calenders' changing but our time still stays the same
is it a "happy new year" or we're all playing this game
where we're all trying to make our name
yet failing again and again
so we end up dope and drunk
and all our aspirations end up sunk
our hearts broken by our past still beat with hope
is it even love anymore or a mere scope
to get off with no feelings only feel alone
with a contact list of hundreds yet none to phone
depression and delusion
conflict and confusion
that's what goes on in our heads
all unspoken words wet our pillows with the tears we shed
we want money only to spend it all
some luxury so that we can have it all
it's so complicated yet so simple at the same time
we're killing ourselves daily and we still don't consider it a crime
this isn't a poem just a raging realization
is this how my life's going to be- a journey of elude and evasion?

.
and our lives are so well
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.