social hangover:

morning after
the sobering up
oh god what have i done

does sitting in a silent room with people
ever make you wonder why anyone likes you;
because i get that feeling now

both as in,
get where you are coming from
and having contracted the disease

love poem

love is like a yo-yo:
i don't get the appeal
am bad at it and
fuck you

growing apart

implications
that we were ever
growing closer
more than walking together, and
going our separate ways

tootles, motherfucker