My Poems Climb Towards “Weirder”

There, you are warned don’t forget
the thank you card remember when you send it
that polka-dots annoy me and bright
colors lie when they aren’t busy being
soul-crushers call me
bitter or whatever
other b-word you’re preferring we both know
it’s only because the insides of your eyes are
smudged mirrors but I have chisels
I can smash them if you want
you’d rather me smash the world instead
force your illusions above and upon reality
I’ve been there I guess
I get it
I’m experimenting too with my thoughts if you want
you can translate them
from My Thoughts to your idea of Real Talk
I want to hear your interpretations, vague translations
which my classrooms call analyzing
you can borrow my chisel and sculpt
my poems if it makes you feel better
it won’t I’ve tried your turn
nonsense or beauty? I don’t know
smash if you want; I have backup copies

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