Please don’t debase yourself for us (thank you to my followers, who have only shown me the utmost support)

Thank you to everyone who has watched a video

of my readings and didn’t point out

that it would be a whole lot more interesting

if I just showed a little more skin

 

Even though I was terrified

that the people here

would react to my poetry the way

I’ve been treated in real life

 

I opened my legs all over

these private bad thoughts

and offered them up

in a whirlwind of sex and drugs

and none of you called me a whore

or told me to shut up

 

this is a world

where people want me to have

only what I want

 

 

This is how people get hurt

Those strobe lights shouldn’t be allowed

in such a small room

because it replaces the calm wave

that I rode in on

and we shouldnt be allowed to drink

three skullcaps worth of soju

but we always do

 

and you shouldnt have said

that I couldn’t leave the room

however grinningly

with whatever intentions

nevermind

our longstanding friendship

 

But the next morning,

when i asked if I broke the skin

you lied, pull your sleeve down

and said that I didn’t, just because

you didn’t want to hurt

my feelings

Doctor, Doctor

“The medication is working well enough,

I’m not experiencing any side effects.

I just think we need to double or triple the dosage”

“Why is that?”

“Because I can still feel something.”

“What do you feel?”

“A profound sense of disappointment.

I feel like everyone can go swimming

in the ocean but me, and really enjoy it.

I have fun for awhile, then the waves pull me

under, and I sink into a dangerous direction.”

My Stoop Faces the Street

We sat on the stoop so long

we attracted a party

and you wanted to talk

about meaningful, deep things

what Sylvia Plath really means

in this poem, or that

and he wanted to talk about history

 

and i said “Wait a minute, guys,

let’s turn this back to me”

by the time the first guy left

i was just practicing for

my next interview; the next great thing

and still singing Johnny Cash

so long as it was my favorite song by him

 

but by the time it was just me and him

my old, gay, playwright of a neighbor

i was talking about my nightmares

and what i really need

and we talked so much about

my mother that

i cried, but we kept on singing