I'd like to wrap it all up in a poem
Like a homecoming dress
that fits just right
But it always seems like
The arms are way to saggy
ANd the Bodice is way to0 tight
I just won't get ANY in this
It'll probably take me a billion trillion years
To tailor a poem
To fit my whole life

Your sprinkler went off
And it's raining outside
I think I can hear
Some of the grass
Vomiting

It's Martha's birthday today
Martha and I were in a summer camp together back when I had just started smoking
Martha always smelled terrible and the rest of the kids and I had to complain
In order to get Martha to start wearing deodorant so that we could stand her

We all got together on the last night of the camp
And Martha cried and told us all she felt so close to us
And that she wished that she could've gotten to know us better
And feels sad that the summer was over and that she didn't make more of an effort
And then she jumped on everyone and gave us all a big hug but she still smelled pretty bad

I haven't seen Martha in about seven or eight years
And I'm still smoking

Your stroke feels like a fictional narrative
Maybe it's because I just watched that movie you were in
My friend only gave it one star on Netflix
The walk from my apartment to work
Doesn't give me much time to involve myself in the whole wide world
And Mollie says you aren't really up to visitors right now
I always kind of wanted to be you and not you
Kind of like my dad
I adopted the same dreams but thought maybe
I would take better care of them
While I was watching your movie my friend kept texting me about how ******* everything is
He only talks that way when he's drunk but I guess that's the way I like him best
While I was at work today I talked to my manager about how when I have kids
Cause I really want them
More than I want most things
That I would feel weird about telling them about Santa and then having to eventually
Confess that Santa was all a big lie that I told them to involve them in the spirit of Christmas
I told my manger that I probably wouldn't tell my kids about Santa and if they asked
I would admit that Santa was a complete fabrication that most parents agree it's ok to lie about
And then I would probably have to deal with a lot of other parents getting ******* at me
For not participating in their unspoken agreement to lie to their kids about Santa
And I would have to defend myself
Because I want my kids to trust me

The bags under my eyes
Feel like they're being packed
For a very long trip
I told myself I wouldn't drink for a full week
Every morning of this week
Heartburn wakes me on schedule
Around four in the morning
To remind me to have a glass of water
It's not that I don't care
It's just that I don't know what to care about
Or it just doesn't seem obvious to me
Or it just doesn't seem like very much fun

I fantasize about killing you in self-defense
Like some night you're gonna come home with a loaded gun
And try and take me out
But I'm gonna be prepared and leap from my armchair
Into the kitchen where I'll grab a knife
And cut you down
Before you can fire another round
Your cat threw up on the floor again
And I carefully picked up the
Sad little pile of half digested pellets
With a paper towel and lightly
Tossed them in the trash
I remember once a couple years ago
I was crying in your bed but
I'm not even sure looking back
That even then
You were my friend

I put pants on over my PJs
Fill up my flask
With *****
And put a hat on over my three day ***** hair
Because I don't want to be home when anyone else gets back to the apartment
I started texting people I haven't spoken to in years
Because I miss them and because I miss me
Back when I knew them better
I'm starting to show
And I know that the worst thing about showing is when people start to notice
And their eyes change
And they are suddenly so careful around you that you could cry
So I have to get out before they get back
I write only to keep myself from myself
As If I could transfer me to a page
I only clean half the apartment
I leave things unfinished
Because I'm scared to
Put everything away
As if I were putting
My spoons in a grave