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Not today Justin
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@overwhelmingurges
false religion; terrifying theology
you
stole my spark
and sold me an imitation.
you covered the sun,
your trick—the reflection.
a machine meant to devour me,
gears grinding with urgency,
how else can i mark the time?
how else can i walk the line
of feeling, of devotion,
of perverse forward motion?
grant me an emergency.
offer regulation through intensity.
you passed off chaos as feeling
and now i’m reeling,
stuck in the space
where i tore you away.
i did not turn out the way they expected
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re: laugh track
i spent far too long
trying not to write this poem.
avoiding clouds of words in my head
the way you avoid coffee in the afternoon—
i wish it were all so simple.
i tried to tell you how it feels
when i can’t stop, and you see me
riding a spiral down the storm drain
i keep in the back of my mind
but i don’t think
any of it
came out right.
all i am
is shreds of doubt
spilling from me.
reflected off you.
sent back to
me .
do you know what i mean?
can you hear what i’m saying
or is my apology echoing,
caught in the static of
who i’ve been?
i know i sometimes speak in circles,
but i couldn’t tell you why.
i know sometimes i
disappear
in wavelengths and black holes, and
i know i can be hard to hold:
you don’t know how
to deal with me.
you don’t know how
that feels.
i promise im never trying to be mean—
arguably worse than pointed cruelty,
honestly, worse than intentional spite
(deep down you know the feeling).
it’s gonna take more than cindi’s laugh
to fill the space, to bridge the gap
between who we were and who i became
when everything melted in like a week
watching it felt like forever
watching it felt like i’d never
seen goodbye from this side of the glass
maybe that’s how i hide;
maybe that’s my pride
still trying to prove
i’m not always like this
there’s always tomorrow,
i guess.
i’ve got an artichoke heart
and it’s
always holdin the candle
that is,
always bein the third wheel
but i’ve
not given up yet
i’m just
taking the long shot,
the hard bet,
the way it feels
on a summer day
when you’re soaking wet,
when you’d rather forget
when the taste of yesterday is caught in your teeth
and it can only mean
one thing
but you’re much too shy to say it out loud, so.
lean in close;
we’ve got a ways to go.