Latest Poem:
Purple/Median
I made my friend walk home in 15° weather.
I wondered if I’d pay for it later
when I got soap in my eye.
Then I felt like a P.O.S.
I let it soak in then wash down the
drain like a mudslide, but I obsess
about, fundamentally, who I am.
Waking up in the morning is repetitive,
I reference others when I look at my reflection.
This month I’m remembering age nineteen.
I look like him, but I don’t act like him.
It feels like a full circle moment.
This month I want to taste gasoline,
put a poisonous stick between my teeth,
listen to an old playlist. Back then I
painted my room red listening to Katy Song.
I’m not crushed under the weight.
No matter how many times I go back and forth
or up and down, I don’t have to believe it’s
forever. I always search for proof when
we can never be sure what is factual.
It’s a security mechanism to help put to rest
curiosity that keeps us from the moment.
PaleDeerPoetry 