poem

WE AREN’T IN THE AGE OF

/ npugalia / Leave a comment

sometimes
eyes wish your feet were my feet so I could better
taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap
mymymymymymymymymymymymy
toestoestoestoestoestoestoestoestoestoestoestoestoes
to this beatto this beatto this beatto this beattotototototo this beat
TiltTiltTilt my head
bobbingbobbinbobbing hat
justjustjustjustjustjustjjjust so
Looking like I know something
aboabout the pulse of the world.
I thought I got it

BUT HOW THE RHYTHM HAS CHANGED

I looked up what Jazz meant
thought it said a game of music
that is what this sounds like
people playing with sounds
fingers
stampeding
playing hearts
on strings
see,
(Wee god) Park-er’s souls sum time

I’M ONE SECOND AWAY

/ npugalia / Leave a comment

I can’t tell my level of drink
Is hat a problem
Where are you going?
Is this what being a writer is?
Rows of nothingness and existential dread.
I live from coffee cup to coffee cup
And then once in a while I eat a muffin.
It’s dead here
And I bleed tears.
Yes, all of these things
Hipster Hemingway.
If it makes you feel better I’m a much sore(r) loser than you are
Kk back to my caffeine haze
I forgot to buy pie though
I don’t deserve pie!
But no I’m fine.

Just read a case where the defendant robbed a convenience store, held the cashier up at gun point and when they only had $50, he said “I was just kidding, never mind, forget this ever happened.”
I don’t know why I took it personally

I am so tired can we kill the written word

A poem composed entirely of texts sent to or by me!
Easily the most fun work I’ve ever written/composed.

I’m totally making this a thing.