Frisbee golfiing
Hate
Everything
Whipping through my ego
At 4:30 in the morning
Breakfast sandwiches
The night before
Two nights before that
Friends of the public library
Disfigured forever
Coast to coast
Coast to coast
Suffering a momentary lapse
To arts and crafts
Stab wounds
Jalapeño poppers
In the backseat of a make believe limousine
Rolling the windows down
Yelling at nobodies
With thunder and wet grass
With unfinished manuscripts
With no nook
*censored*
*censored*
*censored*
Stealing coffee before you wake up
Go to the bathroom
And don’t write
Don’t write
I said don’t write
You’re exploring yourself
And quite frankly
I don’t like it
You’re not on a leash
It offends me
That line offends me
It all offends me
Poetry Continued
Through creeping nights
Car crashes held in the air
Under stars forgotten
My friends
My loved ones
Studying acrobatics
Joining the circus
Developing anxiety disorders
Turning into men
Turning into women
Running the world
On tiny shoulders
Freight liners and railroad tracks
AnonymousIn bed
No fire works outside
Just fog
Clouds
Night sky
My hair dry
Pants wearing away
Fan still
Government sleeping
Socks folded
Whiskey tucked in
Tobacco electric
Corso looking down on me
Thinking
Of the places I’ll go
I’d Rather Help Some Freaks
Head down
Walking weird
Listening to eclectic music
Sour
38 degrees fahrenheit
4 A.M.
Writing at work
On the toilet
Knitting sweaters for Godzilla action figures
Bullied
Medicated
Trying to talk normal
Accidentally screaming
Accidentally screaming
Watching obscure foreign films
Ugly
Fat
Stupid
Forced
With no bathtub
With no favorite adjective
And everything became what it was before
Time
Time
Skipping through my hands
Yeah
Call the cops
“I’m not a man. I can’t earn a living, buy new things for my family. I have acne and a small peter. I’m not a man. I don’t like football, boxing and cars. I like to express my feelings. I even like to put an arm around my friends shoulders. I’m not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me sick. I like flowers. I’m not a man. I cry when I’m unhappy I’m not a man. I do not feel superior to women. I’m not a man. I don’t wear a jockstrap. I’m not a man. I write poetry. I’m not a man. I meditate on peace and love. I’m not a man. I don’t want to destroy you.”— I’m Not a Man, Harold Norse
