when i

when i smoke cigarettes i feel like a poet

i’ll take it plain

i’ll take it black

i changed my mind again

i had become so good at changing my mind

i was slowly transitioning into a gimmick, a cartoon

and was hilariously okay with it

the room cleared

as each confused

bundled themselves up

as i grappled and debated

twenty six seemed like

the exact number

to make me cry

when i tear pages i feel like a poet

i tricked myself into a memory

layers peeled off

layers put on

layers peeled off

layers put on

layers peeled off

layers put on

i tricked myself into a coma

i begged my eyesight to be better

i wasn’t really as destructive as i wanted to be

i shook my head at obsession

every page more full than before

every clock more wound than before

every sunset, a sunset

every meal, just a meal

when i count stars i feel like a poet

distance wrung itself like an old rag

and i took a bath in what was left

i always cheated when i did a trust fall

i back peddled

i back peddled

i always wanted to be the highest point in the room

i climbed

i climbed

i always made rules

i followed

i followed

when i sleep late i feel like a poet

i was aching to see my name more places

so i wrote it

over and over

i just wanted to care less

i’ve always wanted to care less

but i exist with less than two minutes on the clock

and so i watched the replays

i watched the replays

i watched the replays

i watched the replays

i wish i could become

the space between my contradictions

i wish i could become

the off beats

i wish my hearing was better

and my observation skills worse

i spend my time wishing

i spend my time writing

i spend my time hot but mostly cold

i spend my time there but mostly here

i’m looking for persuasion

but i’m not looking that hard