I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:

“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”

“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany

I spend hours trying to understand
why you still care
when I should address why I do, instead
I don't think bout you often anymore
But when I do, I think bout how i hope you can't get my smile out of your head, that you wonder how I am

But most days, I wish that you hit every red light on the way to class
that you forget your phone charger at home and your iphone dies halway through your three hour lecture,
on a Monday,
at 9 am

Some days, I hope that the left bud of your headphones break
that all your lays chips are crushed, even though the bag is all air and no potato

I rarely think of you, but when I do, I hope that you lose your last guitar pick
and your brother leaves your aux cord at home,
again

I hope that all of your mac and cheese is just a little to watery and that you lose all of your left socks

On the days I think of you, I wish you uneven laces
and rain on your birthday

I wish you a hole in the crotch your favorite pants and
the parking spot furthest from the entrance

I hope only radio commercials for tampons
and a brain freeze

I wish you forget the last page of your paper in the printer
I wish you forget me

I wish you lose my number
and hope you lose the desire to text me, again

cause maybe if you forget it will be easier for me too
and I won't have to wish you ****** noses and a really big hang nail anymore