When people see
Romeo and Juliet
Die together
They think
"How poetic".
Want to know
What's really poetic?
The sound of the chords
That resonate through the piano
When I take a hammer
To its keys.
Or the way my heart
Reshapes itself
To wrap around your soliloquies
About how you don't need me.
You see,
When two people
Fall desperately in love,
It isn't poetic-
It's the things we do
For those who don't
Reciprocate that love
And the ignorance we hold
Against their disinterest.
We **** ourselves every day
For those who live just fine
Without us.
And that's stupid.
That's life.
That's poetry.

One million and one tiny houses span this city
where one million unsatisfied lovers sleep.
Does Romeos childish grin see more
than these unlit brick roads reveal?
In darkness lovers die alone.
Oh Romeo,
          what did you find in her eyes tonight?

I wiped my *** on Shakespeare once:
in the absence of guidance
or conscience or prudence
bereft of any toilet paper
the solution appliance
which at the time felt like brilliance
was the re-acquaintance of Hamlet.

In that transient experience
the resemblance of ignorance
and the reverence of indifference
ignoring the previous deviance
was replaced
with a new found sense
of future
toiletry diligence.