Chewing the hard burnt bits of cheese off of frozen pizza
I am soft, I am light, I am not giving a single **** about the extra calories I'm consuming at 3 AM.
Ellios.
But from the hospital my mother works at,
must have been reheated a few times now.
I don't ******* care. It's food.

And here I am. Alone in my bed.
Listening to Russian Circles and hoping
it'll help me write something actually worth sharing for once.
Eh, I'd rather not take myself so.

I like a few guys.
I like a girl very much.
I'm starting a new job.
I'm scared of what's to come.
I'm scared of disappointing everyone.
I'm an ellios pizza stowed away as leftovers, a midnight snack.
Hoping to be worthy of praise.
Sprinkled in trader joes seasoning. I'm just so special.
I'm tasty but I'm so much more than I seem.
Cook me in the oven, if you want me crispy.
I cure hangovers.
Just with my fingertips, I promise.
Sleep with me, and see.
You'll see that I'm honest.

You'll be there in the morning.
I might decide to take a hike.
Don't ask me to stay. You don't ever mean that.
I'm fine admiring myself in my frontal camera,
on a lyft ride back home with dancehall music in the background.
I'm worth so much of my own praise that I forget to text you back.