Lately I’ve been thinking of getting into humiliation rituals.
Most of what I say amounts to sharpie on a QR code.
I just can’t help that Cyber Trucks look kind of badass.
That a church under restoration is like faith manifest.
And to that bar that makes me feel bad about myself:
I can do the work of self-preservation tomorrow.
What it’s about is never what it’s about.
You’re suffering under the punishment of positive expectations.
I’m pleased to announce I aim to please and my aim isn’t that great.
The prospect of snow now seems sorta beautiful.
I have dollar signs for braces in my teeth.
I’ve placed the same antics into parallel structures
and turned away from you in my sleep.
I tried to spite you, I didn’t miss a beat
except the beat.
I love you I love you I love you
is what I told myself to think.
My eyes see two of any one thing.
Doctors prescribe me a shape with two identical ends.
Someone said by the time you see the pattern
it’s too late.
But here I am
Ryan Seslow