LET PEOPLE POEMS

‘Selfish’ by Guy Chairsly

I can’t sleep. I’ve just ducked out
on the most beautiful girl who’s ever loved me,
and I’m online but I can’t sign on anywhere social
because I know she’s still up, and I have no excuse
except that ‘want to be alone’, I guess.
I’m channel surfing. Niki Minaj’s ‘takeover’ is on fuse.
Infomercials are on everywhere else. I’m listening
to Ravel’s Bolero, microwaving some frozen
chicken marcella. I don’t know what to think about anymore.

Times like this, I’m most happy. I’ve music welling up
inside me, via headphones, swooning inside me,
making me hungry, making me emotionally and spiritually hungry.
You can eat your fill when it comes to this kind of hunger,
but it’s never enough. You put songs on repeat.
You relive important moments in your life with a new soundtrack,
directing the stage-play that is you. I don’t care.

No, I really don’t give a fuck.

You’re some ‘dude’ who just snuck two four lokos into a movie theatre
so he could get hammered while watching ‘Tree of Life’. No, I’m that guy,
but I’m not that guy.
But I really don’t care.

Once in a while I experience brief moments of sheer bliss.
My toes curl almost. I get shivers. I get fevered bliss shivers.
They don’t run up my spine. They start in my hands and head,
undulating out like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

I don’t care.

I.D.G.A.F.

This is me.
Me right fucking here.
This is me.
Fuck you.
What does this to me?
Fuck you.
I love you.
Fuck you.
Marry me.
Please.
Fuck me.
I’m lonely.
Fuck us, we’re toxic.
Fuck you.
I’m not.
Fuck me,
you’re not either.
Fuck it,
let’s get married.
Fuck it, I live via brief moments of bliss that happen so far and in between that I haven’t a clue how I’ve lived off of so little for so long, but it works, it keeps working, I’m alive and right now I’m ecstatic.