inspired by the unattractive english faculty of miami university

this is where it gets complicated right here
at the point when the poems start to be
written for one instead of all when the
clunky, unwieldy universality is thrown
out the window in order to make more
room for the us pronouns and the inside
jokes and the oh god my life is a slow
culmination of mistakes leading up to
this grand prize mistake where i throw
myself into the water (you know i can't
swim) to prove a point. i want to be
that hamster on the couch, too. i
am a weak man and a jealous man who
commits profound errs of judgement
sometimes in front of children but
please don't take this the wrong way.
i am naive and prone to drink. cowards
write poems like this because the brave
know how to speak plainly and know
how to look at you square in the
eyes and know just the right
compliments because god knows
you deserve them. i mean that
dress that smile don't
get me started now i'm
not writing that kind of poem
i'm trying to talk about
jealousy and self-hate
and courage. this is as close
as i'll stray to that fire. i see
a warm face in the dark but
guess what i ran from it
because people like me
don't deserve fire and
people like me don't
deserve pretty faces.
hold on. i'm taking this
entirely too far and i'm
bordering on obscene
melodrama. let me back up.
i want to speak frankly
and i want to be heard
but jesus christ i am
terrifying, i'm like koch
talking to patrizia about
waiting and leaping
out of a bush to see
if he can find love in
a girl's wide eyes. is
there no subtle way
to handle this i think
not. i'm laughing i mean
have you even been counting
the images i mean this
is barely one of my poems
and i feel bad for
everyone else reading
because there are
things being said
that have no bearing
for them whatsoever.
huddle around, everyone
and watch how i fall.
it hurts less in public.
hold your applause
because the silent
film stars taught
me everything i
know i owe them.
back to us which isn't
us because it's mostly
me projecting but
hear me out i'm
almost off your yard.
you are colors i
can't see and this
drives me up walls.
do this for me now
and pretend just
once that i'm
a tiny, furry thing
on that couch you
wrote about. picture
those eyes again. do
this for me please
because that is
now how i feel.
oh god things
are starting
to close in
and it must
be the end.
i've spilled
my cards all
over the table
and i was
bluffing the
whole time.
but you
knew that.
i have so
many tells.
i hate these
kinds of
poems.
what have
i even said?
i miss you
already.