one of those mornings
where I want to lay on the floor with my legs in the air
where I want to smoke cigarettes as skinny as arms
where I want to wear dark sunglasses that spell out

C-O-O-L C-A-T

and these shades would allow me to be callous
and my apathy and I could make snide remarks

about you,
you little ******

Boy, I hope you can smell my contempt over there.
You deserve it. But I don't really care anymore.

I don't dislike many people, but if I could do it,

I would tell you that I look upon your character
with the same adoration that I would hold for a
parasite-infested rotting mountain of rat feces.

Which is to say not a lot.
Which is to say I dislike you.

It's just one of those mornings,
where I want to stop knowing you, and wish you wouldn't know me.
where I want to do something, but you see, I can't feel a thing, for you.

I have nothing for you, really,
I am fresh out of ***** to give.

I don't regret anything since I learned a great deal.

I wouldn't say I was heartbroken, just exasperated
by your contrived and un-authentic *******-ery.

I am better than you. I put on my darkest shades,
I laugh when I remember that this sunny morning.