i haven't been writing up to par recently. i don't know why.

it is important
to remind myself
that she hates me
he’s prettier than i am, better in bed
a much more open heart, no chance of ever being hurt by him
his love isn’t passive aggressive and filled with grudges
it wouldn’t force you to leave, it will embrace you in
the wake of death or loss or failure
mine will stare blankly

i find myself thinking
“i deserve someone who likes me
despite my myriad flaws, through all of my violence
ignores my brushing off and who wouldn’t mind
an arm around her waist or her shoulders…”

and i laugh
because after all
who am i kidding?
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn