Look at you!
You got up this morning
And endured your trifling, mundane
J-O-B. You wept because you
Felt alone and scared but somehow,
You managed to put on a
“Brave Face” with the help
Of that one song and a random
Text message from an old friend. No one
Will ever know that vast grey planes
That you roam under the influence of gravity,
But you could try to enjoy their company
And lay off the constant terror of their departure.
Look at you, reheating your midday coffee
When you get cold, doing your best impression
Of a living being.
Look at you romanticizing your loneliness,
Marketing it to yourself as a double-wide trailer
Full of cats, books and designer clothes.
Don’t look at the milky ghosts of tears
Haunting the lenses of your glasses,
And for the love of fuck!
Stop looking at your phone…
An inordinate amount of unicorns
that poke each other with their horns,
sometimes playfully, other times with malice.
An echo of the word “inordinate.”
Expansive gloomy ballrooms from ruined castles.
Unrealistic conceptions of romantic love.
A fat hulking bully called Forever.
The Daria Complete Series DVD box set.
The library from my high school.
The library from my elementary school.
Several varieties of the Art Institute of Chicago.
The most epic blanket fort ever.
The Balam Acab remix to “My Boo.”
An empty school gym with a spinning disco ball.
Judgement from my hipster bully.
An attic full of unused witty comebacks.
A faceless professor/therapist/hot god father.
A sexy monster boy with interesting hair and tight pants.
Several long haired anime guys.
A space craft filled with colorful jungle gyms.
A closet filled with everything I’ve ever loved.
Jewelry and postcards from boys.
Everything that I ever hearted on the Internet.
A lonely hikikomori studio apartment with infinite media.
That time when Peanut told me that it was okay to be nobody.
I’m never gonna say
the right things,
this much I promise you.
I am not a human, I am
an empty, innocent thing
with all of life running around
inside of me like gerbils.
My feelings have never been useful,
and I have no plans to be cool.
I will splooge emotionally,
and it will sting in your eyes.
I won’t be satisfied until
my entire existence is completely
convoluted by my insecurities.
I’m just gonna split my soul
into horcruxes, and hope that
someone cooler than me
finds some use for them.
I will begin and finish many books, in that order. My life will consist of a thousand tiny ventures. I will view personal Tumblrs from beginning to end, and feel something like accomplished. I’m into French Pop Music and I need to watch more Gundam. I will read books that my friends give me out of love. I will feel the residue of excitement from said friends on the pages of said books, and I will be relieved of my own quest for excitement in said feeling. I will make art about failed artistic projects from my teenhood. I will surrender to the Kardashians and will buy the box set of Sailor Moon manga for my 10 year old cousin. My relationships will be projected by series on Netflix, we must press on together until the addiction is lived out! And then we will find other addictions. I will encourage the obsessions of my loved ones, if only for reciprocation. You are my portal to another world, because this one is “dead.”
Maybe u thought u were Endymion,
and maybe i thought was a lady bug.
either way i found myself camped
out on your chest under the moonlight.
out of the thicket of your chest hair
came a little white rabbit.
me and that rabbit got really cool.
we went hunting together for small game.
it was a ferocious little rabbit!
we stumbled upon an abandoned mine,
and deep inside we found a cavern.
it was illuminated by tiny colored lights,
and comfortably furnished with antiques.
we decided that it was a good place to kick it.
maybe i don’t know how to write this
kind of poem. either way,
i think i found something pretty cool.
You’ll never be happy,
but you can read a lot of books.
You can carve out some
corner of existence for yourself
and you can wrap yourself in blankets
and stare at the Internet
and download all the music you want.
You can pretend that you live
in a parallel dimension so it’s easier to
ignore all of the petty conversations of trifling folk.
Yeah, your dimension was destroyed,
but you might as well tough it out.
You deserve Netflix and Hulu
and high speed Internet.
You can rewatch all the anime
from your childhood. You can
perfect lucid dreaming.
You can read all of Huruki Murakami’s books
and be oddly comforted when you think about
the Suicide Forest in Japan.
You can lose a lot of weight
but only eating hummus and carrots
and the occassional Pop Tart,
and you can start a Look Book.
You live in a palace of ice.
None of this matters.
Appropriate feelings of #joy and #togetherness.
I know what I want to feel, and i feel that way.
The lines and vectors and tangential vibes
start to project from my head.
Numeric values denote the proper sentiments.
The only thing in the house is a lone Christmas tree.
I walk through the empty rooms, the feeling
of space is like passive yoga in my extemities.
I sit down in front of the Christmas Tree
and meditate for a parallel eternity.
From this parallel eternity I derive the power
to calmly slide experiences across my face like
beads on an abacus. There is limited access to to this realm,
but its existence is defimitely helpful.
Abandon this party the cops
we are pressed sugar cane
I kiss you when you say
one night only
and the stand of the up
keep your lips to my different skin
keep in time
britney spears told us
to dance. i’d rather sit
in the lotus position
in a walk in closet full
of givenche and dior.
we’ll sit right in front of
eachother and hold hands
and the couture will brush
our shoulders. tell me about
that time you were a kid
and you were waiting in
your best friend’s room
while he was in the john
and, surveying his possesions
you realized that we
were each all alone.
You weren’t depressed,
though, you were vaguely
excited by the the idea
of your own unique language.
we emerge, and
the world hasn’t ended.
we suspect, however,
that we might be ghosts