detachment v.2

you must find meaning

in the spaces between fingers,
in the blank stretches of day,
in the struggle to speak.

you must find fulfillment

in the empty wanderings,
in the stretching time alone,
in the random work.

you must find joy

in the small talk with strangers,
in the overheard conversations,
in the forcing of a greeting.

you must find purpose

in the stifling anger,
in the injustice,
in the self-absorbed speech.

you must find distance from your own selfish mindset.

[edited 10/20/2016]

detachment

you must find meaning in the empty spaces between your fingers,
in the blank stretches of your days,
in the way you no longer know how to speak to a new being.

you must find fulfillment in the empty wanderings,
in the lengthy times alone in the dorm,
in the work you wish to care more about.

you must find joy in the speaking to strangers,
in the furrowing of your brow mid-conversation with a long dormant dislike,
in the forcing of a greeting so you can perhaps make friends.

you must find purpose in the stifling anger from class conversations,
in the injustices around the world,
in the self-absorbed speech produced by mouths you do not recognize.

you must find the needed distance from your own selfish mindset.

fifteen definitions of my favorite curse word

fuck

definition:

  1. i hate everyone. i can’t hate anyone. i miss him. and him. and her. why does everyone leave. is it because i push them away? is it because they get sick of me? i need to stop feeling sorry for myself.
  2. i need to do a load of laundry.
  3. please talk to me again. well, you’ve sort of been talking to me.  i guess.  please make more time for me. please talk to me like you used to. i just really miss you. i probably sound really pathetic, i probably am really pathetic.  but right now i can’t seem to care.
  4. i love you.
  5. this coffee has gone cold.  my mouth now tastes like puke.
  6. this medication is making me numb and unmotivated and i have this vague desire to write but i can’t think of what to write and/or i hate everything i produce.
  7. my cat just jumped on my stomach and started to knead and her claws are really really sharp.
  8. i want to get a job but i haven’t gotten past my fear of other people/rejection/looking silly.  the other day when i was out, i went to ask about job openings in this cafe and i saw the people inside and i froze up and walked away and almost started crying. my therapist says i have anxiety that turns into depression. i doubt this. i mean, i’ve never had a panic attack, if i have anxiety it is very very mild. sometimes i also doubt i have depression, doubt i ever had it, as if i don’t have journals filled with sadness and self-hate and dried up tear drops. as if i can’t remember the nights i spent writing the sadness into the pages like that would make it go away.
  9. i really miss you.
  10. i miss everyone.
  11. i’m my own toxic influence. i really hope other people don’t find me to be the poison i think i am.
  12. i’m really goddamn overdramatic sometimes, especially when i’m sad.
  13. look at that cute goat.
  14. sometimes my poetry doesn’t make sense but i can’t figure out how to properly convey my thoughts. maybe this is okay, because really, my thoughts don’t make sense. and maybe that is just an excuse and i should work on how i relay my content.
  15. i have a hard time remembering that things will be okay. but they will be. they’ll be okay.

an exercise in dangerous pessimism

DREAM ONE MORE FUCKING MELODY
AND I’LL SHOVE THIS CACTUS UP YOUR ASS
THE WORLD IS NOT BEAUTIFUL
STOP DELUDING YOURSELF
pavement pavement pavement pavement
I MIGHT AS WELL WRITE SHIT
pavement pavement pavement pavement
IT’S GETTING HARDER TO WRITE
pavement pavement pavement pavement
I ONCE READ A POEM
IT WAS GOOD
THEN, I WOKE UP.
pavement pavement pavement pavement
I’M DISENCHANTED WITH THE EARTH
punch that pavement like your body doesn’t matter
you don’t matter
nothing matters

FUCK YOU AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE

and with open arms you listen to my pleas
this line has left my mind
/
my cat is staring at a spot on the floor
i wish i were that easily entertained
/
there will be ten more pink lines on my arm,
near the crease of my elbow,
my, my, my,
my, my, my,
how fucking pathetic are you
/
shut up, you aren’t making any sense
speak up, a bit more clearly please
/
carvemyheartoutofmychestandthrowitaway
it does me no good anyway
/
i’m losing interest in life
i can’t commit to anything
commit suicide
can’t even commit to that
but don’t worry, i haven’t thought about it
/
i’m just fucking pissed at the world
and i don’t know why
/
fuck off, bitch

an afternoon at starbucks

not everything has to be fine

sometimes, it’s best to just sit

and listen to the cars roll by

through the puddles on the road

because the sky is crying

and drink hot cocoa

small sips, so you don’t choke

because at the moment, you don’t want to die

and eat the iced-lemon pound cake

small bites, so you can savor it

because it goes well with the hot cocoa

and you don’t want the moment to end

not now, not ever, really

because this feels nice