We’re coming up to the half a year anniversary
But I’m not feeling so vapid come this time around
Maybe it’s cos a familiar question is orbiting my lobes
And quite frankly I don’t have an answer this time around
What it is I’m even asking the stars for?
That which I could pluck from the gardens of my fellows?
With only the addition of readiness to entice the deal
Is that what it all boils down too?
Not a search for beauty, or for enchantment
But a treck for the treasure of convenience?
Maybe I don’t want a blue bird to show for my efforts
I just want the whirlwind of the engagements
The chest pains as I walk up to the meeting place
The stutters in my speech, the grasping for topics
Before tearing the walls down with our finger tips
As the distance between us regressed to decimals
Does it matter how it actually ends up?
If the means to get there were so joyous?
As I vocalize it, it becomes apparent
That we put love into such bizarre quantifiers
So many ounces of attractiveness
They have to hit a quota of earnings and possessions
Maybe those I’ve looked down on had it right
Nothing about them has to blow your mind
I just want to be liked in the most infantile way
For them to like me, like the way I talk
Like the way I dress, like my glass shattering laugh
Like my pointy nose, Like my scraggly hair
Like the way I write, Like the way I love
But above all that shite, the one thing they have to like
Is like the way I like them too
Maybe this isolation wasn’t in vain, to figure that one out
Lnc0
Domestic Poetry 