the sight of soccer makes me sick
the smell of old spice makes my eyes *****
seeing a buick makes me want to curl in a ball
it always seemed like you stood so tall
above me
as i stood in your shadow
you were
are oblivious
as you chat away
every day
pretending to care
pretending
like you want me there
today you almost
read my poems
stupid
to lend you my computer
while it was up
you read one
two
three
before i freaked and pulled it away
it makes me
sick
this hopeless devotion
it curdles my stomach
this senseless inward commotion
reading like a sheakspere historian
into your every word
brush
comment
every time
our eyes meet
i fall a
little more in love
and get a little angrier
at myself
for succumbing to
this foolish
black hole
of a sickness