Poetry

An Angsty Rumination on Loneliness in Two Parts

Part I: Decay

Women in water,
women in fabric,
people in water,
people with no dicks,
people with tight flesh,
people with holes,
people who dance around numerous poles,
put them in water,
out in the sun,
watch them get tan,
let them have fun,
pay for the pictures,
like, comment, subscribe,
go to bed alone and wonder why.

Part II: Hope

I’m not having sex ’cause I’m a fucking mess;
don’t take care of myself,
barely there for my friends.
Bank account almost empty,
willpower’s the same;
boobs and food (and improv song lyrics)
are all that’s left in my brain.
I’m hungry. I’m horny. I’m funny.
(I’m boring.)

I’m hungry. I’m horny. I’m horny. I’m horny.

When’s the last time I was nice to someone else?
(Don’t be so hard on yourself.)

When’s the last time I tried something new
(without anyone’s help)?

Lost. Stagnant. Tired.
Not alone.
Still …
not alone.

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