something is scraping up the inside of my ribcage
tapping the bone for maple syrup
seeping out
a brown glossy shimmering nectar
concentrated sugar
I hate using the word should
and I’ve already written this one a million times
but here I am writing it again
sad
I’m tired of more time passing and then needing to write more epitaphs
but, hey, here’s another

rip ||instant gratification||

the waves are rolling in just like this hovering over man-made coastline artisanal rocks designed to hug everything just right and the grass explosions at the top of the blades wheat fairies swarming where grasshoppers live

the sun is hot on my neck freckle shoulders constellation galaxy expanding out and out and the tour guide walking past mentions how alumni get married here while I feel so inconveniently and self-pityingly alone

the airplanes and boats are so unoriginal white speckles dragging across all that blue until I can’t tell one from the other but the sound lulls me and reminds me I should take a nap back bowing in leather cushions unsupportive plunging down ring after ring of unconscious kaleidoscope back deep down at the bottom of my fishtank

is this poem too sad for such a pretty day?

the waves are rolling just like this artisanal rocks designed to hug everything just right and I get this feeling lavender explosion floral wedding cake blossoms and dirt lanes with so many rows of pine trees all divinely and unquestionably mine washing over like starburst sunrise and

((you sit down beside me))