I am not above bad poetry (and screenshots)

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I am twenty-five,
not twenty-four.

and I’ve always aspired
to be some kind of knockoff.

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Chris Hansen with rouge,
but not that voice.

“a fifty-three-year-old boy…”
(see, I told you I’d fail.)

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Now, if you would,
have a seat over there.

chew on a burnt cookie
and forgotten chocolate chips.

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The doctor,
the lawyer,
the accountant,
these writers to be,
the Mormon,
a therapist,
cops on the run.

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oh, the revolving door
that knows no national language.

aside from shallow breathing
and a sigh taken for granted.

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4 thoughts on “I am not above bad poetry (and screenshots)

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