Wordchuck

I want people to stop-
to stop the complaining
stop ignoring their painful scrutiny of every detail
the conscious riddled words and phrases of the
OH SO NOTORIOUS
--word vomit.
I’m sorry that these sentences fail to purge
the mind of the disease that has for
too long plagued your thoughts-
these empty pages and the endless piles of un-recycled
paper are yet another testimony to the forced heaves
of my failed circumstantial bulimia.
This pencil has been heaving dry for too long.
(And you say angst dies at fifteen).
Let’s get high off the excess mediocrity we’ve stashed in the walls
and the floor boards of our unrealized talent to do
a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y
nothing
and acquire unwarranted hatred
as a teenage girl collects insecurities.
I borrowed these words from faces
I pretend I know-
Adopting personalities is like shaking hands-
but taking away more than the germs
and the moist souvenir of someone you judge upon touch.
I’ve been conditioned to hate everyone equally,
with the occasional bias
tossed into a less than delectable salad of wilted acquaintances
and stale “friends.”
Can I really blame anyone for such cynicism and occasional spurts of egotism?
Yes.
But not today.
Yesterday-
When the world revolved around “you-know-who,”
I could have identified the perpetrator directly.
I’m not feeling particularly fond of clichés.
Perhaps Tuesday.
Ask then.