POEM - Brentwood Dr

I’m a dead body in the passenger seat

of your car;

wreck yourself, and perhaps I’ll

pull a Jesus fucking Christ

—Christ fucking Jesus?

—Jesus Christ fucking?

Fucking Jesus Christ, am I right?

Anyway…

Fool yourself into believing there’s

anything about me worth loving

The world will see things rather differently,

so you know,

because the world only sees

what it cares to

I am the focal point of each blind eye

They look right through me on purpose,

as though too much love

makes me loveless

Maybe they’re right, but I don’t

want someone who cares if I’m wrong

  

I want you to see all the ugly around us,

and never fear we’ve been irreversibly infected

For we live in the shadow of tyrants,

and it’s made me begrudge my own existence

What I need most is someone who’s

willing to help me remember

that beauty is worth fighting for;

someone to help shoulder the sickness

I can’t keep living alone with

  

The life I dreamt of having was not

so limited in its experiential scope

as to assume I could ever be

the entire universe to anyone,

so please don’t ask the inverse of me

Encourage me to want (without shame)

that which acts as rocketed bliss,

and I will be your unshackled companion;

one which never forgets where home is,

or resents its whereabouts

  

Either that, or we can simply

keep trying to swim in shore-sand;

time wasted until we are wasted by time

—regretful graves left unmarked

by their own owners

for being too mediocre to memorialize

  

I need you to appreciate

that we are better than this idling engine,

however safe it might make us feel