Breakup

prose in the form of poetry


“the realization:
I am generally sad in life,
but life without you
for the past couple weeks
has made me
exponentially more miserable.”

This was the last text
[a very post-modern
characteristic
of this poem (along with the use
of square brackets,
let alone,
a sidenote within double brackets
[right?])]
The last text
on the last day of our last break-up
of the day of the last day
in which we ever talked to each other.

This would be a lie.
We have been broken up
since god made us
or since a monkey evolved into us
nobody is ever born together

It always acts out like this:

Love is possession.
Happiness is relief.
Sex is possession.
Orgasm is relief.

redo:

Sex is suffering
orgasm is relief
love is still possession
happiness is the dirt under my nail

to sum it all up:

life is a fake orgasm

I felt so bad
about myself
tonight
that I gave money to
a homeless person
to try
and feel better about myself,
and it never works
like you expect it to.
Or if it does,
it is excessively temporary.
He didn't give back
any change.

Joey tells me
There are a lot of other fish
in the sea
But
When I drink from the fountain
he tells me to save some for the fish.

Sometimes my mind
runs a little too quick for my speech
and I slur meaningless grobble.
Grobble isn’t a word.
Grobble grobble grobble.

Birth is grobble,
Love is grobble,
death is grobble,
Everything in between is filler.

Dancers
move
but
singers
move
and fishers
fish and
workers
dance and lovers
fish and they are all

taxes.