The words we don’t say are more cutting than surgeons.
Our words should be changed as we’re no longer virgins.
But we find that we’re kind as we climb back on horses.
As we strive to derive what survived intercourses.
Written by Jason Wright June 30, 2017
My cousin Danielle, who I did not know in person, often interacted with me on Facebook and commented on my poetry. She died in October of 2020 but I was not informed as no one was aware of our online interactions. She was exactly 6 years younger than me, which we often commented on. Rest in peace cousin.
I attempt to document the immorality of Xanax but the only evidence is a kooky fortune teller who reads my chai tea leaves and tells me I’m wasting my time.
I agree.
I think of him in California on some app naked and hunting for affirmation of his desirability – giving his attractiveness a score equal to the number of dick pics he receives.
Will he thank them with blowjobs?
I don’t think he would cheat but of course I never expect him to lie.
And why carry naked pictures on a mobile device if you don’t intend to share them?
I’ve seen things that I shouldn’t… or should I have?
My inner I is cloudy / wounded / bloody.
The red tears fall and lubricate my way to the future.
