September 16, 2024

i know the steps i’d take
and the things i’d say
to be mean

but i never say or do them
they remain inside my mouth/my throat/buried deep inside my mind

and though those actions i’ve never taken
and i know i never will,
how come having those thoughts alone makes me feel like
the worst person who has ever lived?

[i know i know the point is
we cannot control our immediate reactions/thoughts/feelings,
but what we can control —
and what shows the merit of a person —
is how we act on them, but i guess i just want to be so good of a human
that i never have human feelings
ever]

April 4, 2024

there is something
~tragic~
about terrible gum

especially in one’s
favorite
flavor:

the excitement
for the bright blue
of ultra-sour
blueberry

the curly-q
of a whole big tape
of bubble gum
waiting in front of you

and to have the initial unfurl
of the roll
snap
and break
and shatter
only bodes ominous
for the rest of the experience

and then
for the flavor to be good
for maybe four seconds
just makes the loss of flavor
later
hurt one’s soul
a million times over

and if that weren’t enough

right when you think you should just
spit it out
be done with it,
a random flavor pocket will burst to life
and you want to chew more
to not waste any flavor,
but the chewing hurts your jaw
and the flavoring is overall
so underwhelming

this disappointment
is one of the worst
of my life

[not really, but man,
when you are *in the mood* for some
blueberry bubble gum
and this happens…
the soul aches
for brand-name hubba bubba
bubble tape]

July 18, 2023

tho no one
likes
the un-airconditioned train
i still smile to myself
every time a new group enters
and makes the same
“awww, nahhh/no!”
when they realize
the car they’ve chosen
will only increase
the nyc heat

it’s the little moments that show —
we are more alike than we are different

February 20, 2023

i’m pretty great
at
poetry of the mundane
(if i can give myself that credit)
but i’ve been edging towards
a more gruesome poetry
as of late

poetry of the gross daily tasks
the icky parts of being human
the scattered co-morbids of mental illness
the ones with strange satisfactions

and i don’t want to subject readers to such poems
as odes to pimple popping
and detailed descriptions of how my anxiety makes me
pick my skin to bleeding
but
they are part of my human experience
so maybe
they are also a part
of yours
?