I think you oughta know.

Note: Not sure what this poem means, really, I suppose it’s just chaos, but your insight is appreciated.

back to the world,

to the breeze,

to the trees,

why we try,

it’s a lie,

for society’s in-betweens,

doll yourself up,

and tear it all down,

use a digital camera,

and put it on social media.

buy the vinyls,

hang them on your walls,

not to be played,

but to display,

“i love tame impala”

(i don’t know a song of his, sorry if that’s offensive),

and my child reads,

she sings,

“Get it Sexxy”

my cat’s in a stroller

we’re walking in the park

the homeless man

my foot–

stings,

“he’s orange and i’m black”

fuck the patriarchy,

isn’t everything so sad?

who would save a life,

i wouldn’t treat the mice

as living things to be held with dignity,

isn’t it all so fucking tiring?

“i want to scroll, goddamn it!”

is a better way to say, “i’m busy,”

don’t you lie to me!

and my neighbor’s doing karaoke,

but the microphone is autotuned,

and actually she doesn’t need it anyway

because there’s no audience,

martha’s sick

jane is dead

oliver’s researching cancer

you know there’s “no cure”

but bless his soul for trying before they make him a prime example of why you shouldn’t.