Debauchery was in the air for all of us last night.
Neo hip hop stoner jive.

I once watched my friend break down into tears after
hearing a Phil Collins song while shopping for dinner
in a Louisville gas station.

Angela will get up and leave the room if The Reason by Hoobastank
comes on the radio and you still listen to Closing Time when you get ready for bed.
Weird phrases are hovering through the air.

I turned on the bathroom fan to avoid sitting in silence with myself and you ripped up all my potted plants and sold my favorite arm chair on craiglist.
I wake up sobbing.

You were chewing on a red pen, but i thought it was a twizzler. I worked up the courage to ask you for one.

The chainsaw love song of the jumping spider
makes the snare drums in your ears roll.
Its gold in the right light.
Even better in the under light.

I told you i think its weird that everyone buys shoes
and maybe some people feel about their shoes
the way i feel about my shoes,
Which is a good feeling.

I am writing this poem while other people
read poems that the have written also.

I am too anxious to ask people when podcasts become a thing
and what does it mean to be a podcast?

A friend once said it would be cool if your poetry professor
told you to ******* but its also cool when they get you a
glass of water at the poetry reading where you are writing poems.

I think the girl in front of me is writing a poem too.
I wonder if she writes about spiders.
I wonder if she is giving her mom a poem for her birthday.
I wonder if she drafts poems about how you make her feel but
deletes them before they burn into her laptop screen.

I wonder how you feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I hope that you feel like the way i feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I am glad we are friends. I want you to play piano with me on sunday evenings
so we can prelude into the perpetual strain of sunday to saturday.
It may, if we play loud enough, dampen the bodies of the
****** and doomed that we inhibit on weekdays.

I wish I could write poems that inspire your poems.

Let me draw you a picture.
One that tells the truth.
I won't try to make it beautiful.
I'll just make it so it's true.

You see there is a world today,
I guess with not much use.
We have plenty opportunities.
We have time without the effort.

We have some wealthy countries.
Yeah, that sounds really good.
You go on and see others with middle income.
Well that's not too bad!
Wait a Minute though.
You go on to realise ones without enough.

Not all countries have enough money.
Not all countries have enough food.
Not all have clean water.
Not all have reliable health care.
Not all have our other priorities.

Now get your head together.
It isn't that hard to see,
What is going wrong here.
The solution sounds easy.

There's many developed countries.
This is very good.
But why are some struggling,
While other ones are thriving?
Surely it should be equal.
If there's enough money in the world,
Why not just spread it round.
If everyone could just think,
Then the solution could be found.
I don't mean just found.
I'm sure people already know.
What we really need to do,
Is to imply it.
Then we can grow.

Can you see this picture clearer?
I've drawn it now,
It's done.
What comes into your mind?
A mess?
Black scribbles everywhere.
From here the world seems great.
I am thankful for that.
But why should other places not be?

Our parents, our families.
They teach us how to share.
Not only that,
But they teach us how to care.
Where did this go wrong then?
Stand with your eyes open.
Don't be tricked to only see the good bits.
You can also see the parts that are broken.

Why don't we get together.
Show the world what we're made of.
Show others that we all have a heart.
That's what is broken can be mended.
If we were to work together.
Not just as countries,
But as people of the earth.
We could all live in comforts.
A home to live and breathe in.
We wouldn't be alone,
Because everyone could have someone.
Now do you see?
This is the real picture of out Earth.