time to have a hissy fit with you
because you are not my friend.
You send me into
temporary states of evasion and oblivion.
How do I feel
when I think I need you?
My mind begins to race and reel
and I think about so many of the things
I hope to do, and I pray
that tomorrow is the day my
“dreams come true,”
that readers will pay me
to write whatever I want to say,
thoroughly contemplated and elucidated
of course, so I can effectively take my readers away
from their immediate frustrations
and sway to the beat of my rhymes;
…oh, and I suffer from trichotillomania.
Why don’t I just shave?
I pick so persistently that my hands begin to shake,
frustrating my entire body with so much tension
that I take another shot
of you. whiskey, cause I don’t know
what else to do.
I meditate, masturbate, read my favorite poets,
make a few comments on social media,
try to pay more attention to the TV
than my overstimulated mind and body.
There’s all that, plus the loneliness.
I hate this negativity, this self-pitying obsessive-compulsive rumination!
And I hate worrying about earlier in the day, hoping I didn’t ruin any conversations,
come across as fake or offensive…
…somewhere in the mix
of striving for eloquence,
informed and critically analyzed opinions,
trying to be interesting,
excellent at listening,
participating in giving and taking in a way
where everyone is treated like more than just
one out of nearly 8 billion…