Breaking the Rules that are Breaking Me

i’ve never really been 

into poetry and stuff like that

because all i’ve seen about it is really pretentious

and all the poetry i’ve heard of

is always something like


Falling off a cliff

Tumbling to your feet

Grasping at your legs

Begging for one more… chance?


see? i don’t know how to write poetry

but it’s always like that

all flowery and in-love and that kinda stuff

but i’ve never really been into love

and i’m kinda jealous, in a way, 

because i see it happening so naturally to others

to the point where they get into fights

all hinged on their relationship

and i’m sitting over here like

“bro i don’t know what’s going on

but it doesn’t sound good”

and they communicate their feelings

through poetry. like, 


The words that flow off your pomegranate lips

Are tangy, sweet, then sour

You cut me with your passion

Then crushed me with lemon when I was most vulnerable.


like dude. i’m not that into fruit either. 

i really don’t know what you’re trying to say.

but then they try to communicate it in another way

like in some kinda script form, 

acting out their feelings on stage

putting on some mask 

and hoping that the other person gets it?

i’ve read a few scripts

but they sure didn’t read like


MY FRIEND sits down at the table where THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHER is already sitting. 



Why don’t you like the movies I like?



Why do you never look at me when we have sex?


because obviously that’s not how people interact.


all the stories i’ve heard

are always some dramatic, life-changing thing

like, have you never heard of casual interaction?

it’s always going from zero to a hundred

like you’re stepping on a pedal

grappling with the idea of loving-hating this person

falling in love and falling off a cliff

you told me you’d swear off self-destruction

then swore to love them forever

and yet you use excuses like

“red flags just look like flags 

when you’re wearing rose-colored glasses.”

but you knew i could’ve taken off those glasses for you

and of course those glasses are a metaphor

for the cracked spiderweb glasses you put on me

but i never knew that 

because you only told me through poetics

i still can’t understand, have you no shame?


kinks are reserved for the bedroom

and i don’t consent to participate in your rhetoric fetish

your ideas aren’t seducing me

and yet

i think i understand poetry.