gifts my enemies gave me:
money; war; a keen sense of the ironic, you know
but also blankets, mugs, a spice rack
that over-the-door hanging shoe pocket thing
a coffee maker
a tassel from graduation ceremony
6 albums
that every single one of you left behind
including that one from the dead one
a lifetime of bad dreams
a taste for scented tabacco
one of those dumb alternative indie band shirts that i hate
but i wear it when i’m cleaning
ironing out the creases
and listening to techno, fuck you
i left you and you left the entire fucking solar system
did you hear Jeff Bezos tried it too?
what a goddamn poser, right?
oh my god you’d be laughing
and spearing me with some latest unlistenable track
that turns into yesterday’s new music
your chin jutting out below a halo of
curling black locks
your wild stupid hair
that every single person made fun of
and you liked it
because it made you different
more different than the heroin
thanks, by the way,
and sorry to be, like, so obvious,
or whatever
but your mom didn’t even cry at the funeral
maybe she didn’t want to even give you the satisfaction
would you?
didn’t you feel how much we all wanted you
beckoning against the traffic
sweating it out anew that you’ve crossed over and we’re all just stuck here waiting
down and out and trapped in a maze on the 405
and it’s hard
it’s hard for us
you sore loser
why didn’t you call me before you did it?
x9dread 