can there be no shampoos? no cakes?
no ales?
do you understand my
disdain for my own

self? i am alone in a room right now
it is a small room
on the eleventh floor
of a mediocre apartment
in a mediocre part of
the greater toronto area

i can hear bad music 

coming from the room 
above the one i
am currently in
i think it is some sort of dubstep
like, bon iver or something

it is the kind of music that
wins 17 daytime emmy awards
and a ******* from a
dead president of the artist's
choice (a lavish ceremony)

like a dairy queen in
late september, 
i weep creamy tears
that taste like creamy
frowny-faces

i weep creamy tears
over a non-existent
lover who is right now
dancing to bon iver ft. drake
whilst punching me in the face

my non-existent lover is
also a stalwart lover
and i resent that quality

i resent my non-existent lover's
stalwart twitter account, 
too because
it reminds me of myself