Stop trying to analyze and dig deep down inside
Sometimes what I'm saying isn't what I'm trying to hide
Sometimes I just say the things I feel
Or nonsensical junk about the unreal

Sure the "chocolate syrup" has a meaning
But that doesn't make everything mean something
My allusions are oft false
To delve deep into a shallow pool
Is to plan for failure
There will be pain for us both if you keep it up

I enjoy the smaller things that
No one ever does
Noticing the words and expressions
Just  because

The little, hidden dimples that
Show up when you smile
The way your shirt conceals your form
Yet reveals it all the while

I wrote you a letter, oh was I ever the fool
To think that you'd want me: the geek at the pool
Maybe if I wore a v-neck like those dudes you like
Or if I wore those pleather pants and had a motorbike
But instead I'm wearing swim trunks that are sporting Spiderman
The kid one, not the knock-off of the movie from Japan
My complexion's pasty white, like I was locked away for years
And my aversion to the ocean's only heightened by my fears
Of public humiliation, but it seems I've got that down
Because no matter what I do, I'm the laughingstock of town
So when your letter got here, it came as no surprise
To read. "*******, Jason T. Go and dry your **** four eyes."

Talk about yourself,
He said
Talk about your past
Talk of things that came to be
And things that wouldn't last

Oh, talk about myself,
I asked
Is that what you'd have me do?
Talk about the disappointments:
All the movies, books, and you?

Talk about yourself,
Again
He said, with a sigh and a cough
Pull out the stops, and pull out the plug
And beat the machine 'til it's off

I can't say that I know what it's like
To lose someone
And it's not because I have never experienced death

My Great Aunt died of lung cancer
Though she never smoked
And was the nicest lady
With what I assumed
Was a New York accent
To ever be convinced that I loved
Her Spinach Frittata
And who indirectly
Made jokes about my insatiable desire
To consume the apple pie

She died on the tenth of october in the year two-thousand ten
(10/10/10)
And I remember my father calling me to the kitchen
To tell me the news
I cried a little
And went back to my room to write angry poetry
But ultimately I was just tired
And went to sleep
Without really adressing anything

At her funeral, I remember my cousin telling me
The story of how her (then) long-term boyfriend
Used wire cutters to remove his braces
A week before they were due to come off
They called me over to put a shovelful of dirt
Into the grave
And I did
Then ran back, jumping as I did (jumping as I did),
To my cousin
Because her candid attitude let me know that it was ok
Not to be somber

My dad's friend had a stroke which dislodged blood clots and sent him
Into a coma for a long time
And while we posed with him for Christmas pictures
(I hated posing, I hated the picture-taking, I hated smiling, it all felt wrong)
And my father promised that hypnosis was going to work
My dad's friend died
In a hospital bed
In his home
In a historical region of uptown Whittier
My dad lost his friend
My mom lost hers as well
When she stopped talking to his wife
Who had been her friend first

The cousin who was talking to me at the funeral
Lost her (then) boyfriend
When she woke up one morning
To find him dead with her
In bed

So I can't say that I know what it's like
Because I have lost people
I've seen death
And I dislike it
I dislike the thought that all my
Teachers will die before me
And I am sad thinking about those days
That I will be in the crowd
One of the Touched

I dislike that I don't know what it's like
Because I don't see it like the others
I try to remember beauty in their life
Beauty that they shared with me
Beauty that I will keep alive
Like the energy cell
The Doctor blew life into
To power the TARDIS

But if I can't find it
If there was nothing we shared
If there is nothing to tie me to them
I feel bad that someone else feels bad
I dislike their pain and
I wish I could give them a hug
And that the hug would fix everything
But it won't
And all I can do is think about
How much I ****
At comforting grievers
And how much I wish
I could be a better comforter
But I'm not
Because I don't do well with death

On a night no different than
The others that abound
I spotted six unsavory men
Together, hanging around

I told meself, "Now looks at them
They seem a likely lot
What may have stole me puddin packs
Right out me secret ***."

I thoughts a bit then took a chance
I walked into their midst
I told about the puddin stole
And ask 'em if they didst

They laughed a bunch and thought me for jestin'
But 'twasn't I what told them jokes
And when they saw I was being earnest
They gave me slaps and pokes

I thought I saw a blinkin light
Above me twisted head
But twas only lights of painfulness
Like parts of me was dead

I never found me puddin packs
And it truly made me sad
Cos I was to make puddin cake
For me child what wasn't bad

Trouble in paradise, they all say
But there's no trouble in my little rowboat
I'll row my way
Through Banality Bay
Past the pain and humiliation
Of being duped and duplicated
And it'll all be fine
So long as I'm at the oars
And you're at the tiller