Maybe there are too many men in my life
Is that the problem here?
I want to ask very tongue in cheek
Too many on the cusp
Feeling feels
My insides are able to trickle over to them
Like epsom salt
Sprayed atop the mounds of houses
But I ain't in the deep south.

I struggle for words
In difficult sober situations
Riding around with the windows down
I wish I was waving my hair around
But I cut it all off
And thought to myself
On my bus ride over
To my destination
"I feel very unlovable."

My "To Do" lists keep growing
I wished earnestly that there were 3 of me
And I want to stay cool as a cucumber all the time
Rattling off cliche sayings
Like a broken southern record
Sometimes I'll replay my own stupidity or shame
Vulnerable moments in my mind
Because my mind is a movie camera
I just don't know all the technical terms
Yet.