Written like secret cheats to tests on my desk
Folded as if making paper hearts.
We’re always up to no good. No good landmarks. No good barbeque places in town.
Living in the underbelly of being busy.
Combing through analogues of home spices.
Discovering the symptoms of bad vices.
We’re writing down all ten digits. Playing all twelve notes.
Being sued for plagiarism because every creative piece has been made limited edition
All our favorite stories have even worse sequels
All the greats have shitty sons
A confession of disappointment so
We propagate misinformation like the sky scatters
In a swirling sea of timeouts and misappropriations,
Harmless until harmful,
Stressful decisions about going to mars,
And going to the future
Going out to eat,
Going far away
Are forgiveness as we pull ourselves from the line of fire