"ballpoints" poems
If you enjoy having every fibre of your consciousness picked apart by literary ***** at 2 am on a Wednesday,
Fall in love with a writer.
If you enjoy fighting over incorrect grammar usage,
Fall in love with a writer.
If you want to constantly have your eyes rolled at every time you question a metaphor,
Fall in love with a writer.
If you want to be swept off your feet and then promptly put back down in the same piece of writing,
Fall in love with a writer.
If you want to feel worried when the phone isn't answered,
Fall in love with a writer.
Mood swings and sleepless nights?
Fall in love with a writer.
If tangible expression conveys unequivocal compassion,
Most of the time, don't fall in love with a writer.
If you want misinterpret pieces of writing because of the uncertainty of the writers sanity,
Fall in love with one.
If you find that yesterday you were dating a completely different person, if you find that your skin is often referred to as porcelain cigarette ash, if your eyes are viewed like the the first time you saw two flies ******* if the lump in your throat lives on ballpoints, you've fell in love with a writer.
There's no turning
back at this point,
falling out of love
with a writer is like
saying goodbye to a
phone with no dial tone.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Before the revolution,
I snuck into the capitol
with a pocket full of
Wrigley’s Doublemint
and a ski mask.
Lurking in their hallways
after hours. Hiding
in their aisles to find all their
loose pens,
I chewed gum
and covered all the tips
with Doublemint.
The ***** money in a politician’s pocket
will stick to their fingertips
from all the sugar and spit.
I stuffed the president’s inkwell
with gum stick wrappers.
Countless taxpayer dollars
will pour into the pockets
of Bic and Paper Mate
because of my vandalism.
Watch me take a bite from
the budget and chew.
While my comrades are
in the streets taking
tear gas and pepper spray
my breath smells of peppermint
and my bullets come in 35¢ packs.
Pens get capped with dextrin and aspartame
to snipe a signature from falling
on the bill that signs your life away.
I’m on the couch with my mask off
flossing and watching C-SPAN,
as the House collectively
wastes hours scraping
fountain pens and ballpoints.
Looking at a government
full of corrupt pearly whites,
my head thrown back,
I cackle like a mad criminal
with a mouth full of cavities.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 7:35 PM UTC