The Human Experience

Telling your mom that your favorite sneakers are dirty 

Holding a bouquet to visit a loved one, above and below 

Elevators passing at an excruciatingly slow pace

Holding smoke in your hands for the first time

Underestimating just what someone would do for love

Making sure your socks don’t have holes in them 

And checking that they cover your ankles, your scars

Never going to that place again 

Ever again

Xylophones in that funky local fusion restaurant 

Passing out on cold, marble floors

Eating away at yourself so you stay under 110

Relishing in the lost romantics 

I don’t care

Eager to find yourself in that pile of bodies

Not knowing who stands on the other side Calling it a reflection, a screen, a projection, a deduction

Everlasting in the air that remains, even when I don’t