Apr 2017
and as i tap on my keyboard making noises unspeakable i notice that
somewhere between the Y and the I is a U, and I wonder why apple would set up such a cliché
a metaphor I would want to use in times like this where my writing is vulnerable and uncouth
i can’t even be angry with you, against you pressing on your V line since
i knew the movie was bad
i mean i just knew it as soon as the VCR ****** in the thick, boxy, tape
that this film was going to be just like the others— immature and messy,
you were unable to articulate the simplest of my sentences
insert line here
you didn’t even look new, you weren't even an opportunity
you told me you were willing to be the elevated beam in my single music note that we would create harmonies even my mother would like to hear
but she hated you
and you didn’t understand why I liked Bach more than Mozart, or why I didn’t like Mozart at all
you weren't a gentleman, but I am beginning to think those don't exist until well into our 30s
when our hearts are tender enough to feel empathy
you don’t deserve a poem, or the image of heaven
the capital letters you rained in my text messages made my eyes open a little bit wider
i went to cvs and i bought the twix the blanket and the *****
we used to do that together
asian men still write me poems for the morning, i walk out of dorm rooms with water that never knew the cold
and my head it; pounds from dehydration, its been a while since I’ve been in love
but some us are
in love i mean
the dumb ones, the despicable ones
how are they achieving something the kids with 4.0 gpa’s couldn't make an equation for
insert lines here
and why the hell do i keep looking at my phone, waiting for your name to shine bright telling me what to do what to say
insert lines here
why did you sleep with her, on her, side by side, parallel making hexagons and trapezoids keeping me out of the loop
why did i say ok
somewhere between the Y and the I is a U, and I wonder why apple would set up such a cliché
a metaphor I would want to use in times like this where my writing is vulnerable and uncouth
i can’t even be angry with you, against you pressing on your V line since
i knew the movie was bad
i mean i just knew it as soon as the VCR ****** in the thick, boxy, tape
that this film was going to be just like the others— immature and messy,
you were unable to articulate the simplest of my sentences
insert line here
you didn’t even look new, you weren't even an opportunity
you told me you were willing to be the elevated beam in my single music note that we would create harmonies even my mother would like to hear
but she hated you
and you didn’t understand why I liked Bach more than Mozart, or why I didn’t like Mozart at all
you weren't a gentleman, but I am beginning to think those don't exist until well into our 30s
when our hearts are tender enough to feel empathy
you don’t deserve a poem, or the image of heaven
the capital letters you rained in my text messages made my eyes open a little bit wider
i went to cvs and i bought the twix the blanket and the *****
we used to do that together
asian men still write me poems for the morning, i walk out of dorm rooms with water that never knew the cold
and my head it; pounds from dehydration, its been a while since I’ve been in love
but some us are
in love i mean
the dumb ones, the despicable ones
how are they achieving something the kids with 4.0 gpa’s couldn't make an equation for
insert lines here
and why the hell do i keep looking at my phone, waiting for your name to shine bright telling me what to do what to say
insert lines here
why did you sleep with her, on her, side by side, parallel making hexagons and trapezoids keeping me out of the loop
why did i say ok
