My words feel
bloated again
and Regina Spektor
is on the TV singing
about love and heartbreak
better than I ever could
and I have no piano
accompaniment
to make this hurt
seem somehow romantic
and somehow beautiful
instead of the
ugly rasping
that has rubbed my
thoughts raw
with memories
of lost times
and fantasies
of reconnecting
and it hurts
extra to realize
that of all these
people
these best friends
and loved ones
lost to time and circumstance
I realize that
there's not
a **** thing
that I want to talk
to them about
and if we're being honest
here
because poets are always
honest
I miss the idea
of these people
but not the people
themselves.

I had listened to
the song
on repeat
eight times
already
sitting in the
bowling alley
lot
moving only
to restart the
song
as I desperately
tried to get the
gentle carefree
snow outside
to fall in time
with the pieces of my
shredded heart
but gravity had different
plans and where the
snow stopped on the ground
I fell through
until I reached warmth
from the core,
Earth's heart
and mine beat in
synchronicity
for one beautiful
eternity
and at that point

I shut off the music
and drove home

The lady at the store
was complaining of
global warning
and how the snow
the snow outside
yes look there
that snow shouldn't
belong
now should it
and I had only
stepped inside
to warm my face
because my soul
couldn't reach my extremities
but that global warming
that climate change
she said it can't be real
and she love love loves the cold
and I took note and
thanked her for her time
and went off into the cold
because at least the wind
has no shame about trying
to tear your face off
if you disagree

I'm really trying
not
to be jaded and
disappointed by
everyone else
as they tread water
flinging political
tweets
like daggers
and passive facebook
statuses like
gospel
and I can't help
but feel
disgusted
at everything
all
McDonalds and chrome
shiny and beautiful
shades of dried blood
on our hands and lips
and all I can do
I pretend I'm not a part
of that
as my car is littered
with fast food garbage
and my thoughts littered
with judgements against
people I've never met
and I write
poetry
instead of bleeding
out
because this feels
just a little bit
better

"she looks like she's got her life together"

"I think he wants to fail me"

"I haven't studied for a test since middle school"

"I don't love him like that but he's nice to keep around"

"Well she got what she deserved"

and so on
and so on
and so on
ad nauseam

It's funny
how much poetry
I write
just because
I want someone
to talk to

It's not about
you
necessarily
but it is about
the words
and the patterns
arising every single
day with new
old thoughts
and speculations
over the nature of
everything
and we call it poetry
endlessly repeating
ourselves for that
ever out-of-reach
notification bubble
bright red like a heart
to show us we are loved
by strangers
and I can't stop craving
the flavor of that
particular
carrot we call
validation
because all words
and thoughts
need an appreciative
audience