my favorite hat says Love Yourself
because I need the ******* reminder

it’s pink, a color I used to think was girly, and
the brim has a floral print
the kind my mom told me was too flamboyant
   before she knew I was gay
before I needed the advice

but a mother always knows best
or that’s what they say, except
mine still doesn’t

the teacher I hate
used my hat as an example in class (poetic irony)
this is image
this is type
like we couldn’t read the screen

my lazy entitlement
bitter in his space
yet in my own room i still can’t read the words on the page,
or make myself.

i still look for purpose
but the weekend basement usuals tend to call first
(if anyone else called)
and I find comfort in
the ritual
it’s not that I fear responsibility

i’m hiding from myself
if there was a me to find

in the meantime,
i try to Love this
i try to Love something

i don’t usually taste the effort.