Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry

it hurts

So, people thought that
I’m going to kill myself.

I’m not really a bad person.

I eat my lunch.
They actually determined that I’m Hungarian—
I just don’t understand how that’s applicable.
The acidity is there.

I have two tests today.

Right here, it hurts. But, it’s slowly going away.


Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry


In Canada, I can predict [sigh] with ninety-nine percent certainty that
there’s another bus behind us.

Do ya got a light?
Your body language is starting to tell me that you aren’t interested.

I just find it fun to do my hair.
When’s the last bus?
Should I be dramatic about it, kind of?
There’s another bus.

Roast? Yea, that sounds like a Sunday kind of dinner.