i’m not sure how poetry works. i’ve read a few poems. they were alright. i’m sure they applied to their time and at the time, they became popular. i’m sure i could be a poet or a laureate if i had been raised 100 years ago. maybe 80 or 60 or 40. but i wasn’t raised then. i was raised here. with you. while you had things better, and i didn’t. i resented you. but i don’t anymore. you resent me now, and you don’t know why. we’re like bad step-siblings.
i want to say there is a way for us to work together. but there isn’t. you have this irrational need to feel in charge. fine. with. me. but feed us. give me your anxiety, your restlessness, give me your wavering belief in the moonlight because you just don’t know anymore.i’m not here to hurt you. i’m not here to help you. i’m just hungry. i’ll eat anything you feel strongly about. it really doesn’t matter what it is. but open your heart. it looks delicious.