inspired by The National
all my infinite rolls of endless, extravagant poetry imploded into hollow verses when i met you.
So convinced that this is the end,
I never wanted to write bitterly about you.
got into my seat, took on the highs and lows
the same way that we all go
lately, my answer to anything just seems to be
“i don’t know”
blinded and uncomfortable,
once by lies and fear, now decrepit
I think of you on days the odor of water makes me dry-heave.
the skies have poured out their blue