Fucked-Up Connections


Simple pleasantries.

Greetings, handshakes.

I’m not the one you know

and the fire in her blue eyes

is enough to keep you

shackled to reality,

knowing this universe of tattered connections

is only getting in the way

as we throw ourselves to the ground too many times.


I can tell from your wanting

you’re tired of listening

to people who will never know you

and people who know you too well.


I can tell from your gaze

you’re tired of this place

fucked up with streams of consciousness

and people slamming the door.


It’s telling someone you haven’t seen since Christmas

how much they mean to you.

Sure, I love you, you cross my mind once a month

give or take a few minutes.


But the one you really know

you can’t see anymore

and really you’d rather be holding her hand.


People coming and going

from the ultimate house party

because love’s imitation is left unguarded on the mantle

when all your fucked-up connections

decide it’s time to return home

But the only thing you care about

is the people you love for real

who never showed their faces.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 5/7/16

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Lines Like These


"...give or take a few minutes..." send the poem to a place where you nod and say "that's right!" I kinda chuckled on that one. You don't get to choose who loves you all the time, I am partial to the lyricists who said: "Love the one you with!" :D