Painfully Internalizing

"From time to time I find myself mentally flailing in a way that is undetectable to the people passing by me on the street or sitting next to me on the train or even the people I drink with after work and also probably the people I live with too

I’m flailing internally and desperately and if you look closely enough
I’m flailing in the most embarrassing way

I remember I haven’t been loved by a good person in a long time
and I remember I haven’t not eaten after midnight in a long time
and I remember I don’t know how to have just one or two or three drinks
and I remember I forgot to get my nephew a present for his birthday
and I think about how he is my only nephew and I am doing a bad job

I’m flailing in a way that seems irreparable but
of course it’s not

and I’m flailing in a way that’s just lazy

It’s just lazy

Okay nevermind

I didn’t mean to say all this

What I meant is

I can’t stop telling my new deskmate that I am going to kill myself soon
while laughing hysterically and then falling silent for hours

I’ve only been working next to her for a few weeks and I am not sure
if she’s uncomfortable, or too nice to me, but probably both

Also I can’t stop writing poems about her
and then telling her about them
and basically I can’t shut up
because when have I ever

Nope not that

I didn’t mean to say all of this either

Remember when I sat on the outside ledge
of the 6th story window in Tribeca
and you held onto me by the belt loops
and pulled me back in

Well I definitely didn’t mean to say that

What I meant is

Sometimes you just wanna sit on a face
because you know you’re the perfect size

I feel turned on by the idea of scrolling
through the Google doc
where you put the thoughts
that turn into drafts
that eventually become the poems
that are absolutely not about me

I feel turned on by
painfully internalizing
what that means
for eternity

I feel turned on by the idea of reaching over to the empty side of the bed
and jerking off the memory of your dick

Since it’s just a ghost
now I can decide when it comes
if it comes
I don’t have to wait for you
I don’t have to decide which part of me should take that blow
I don’t have to hear you say
oww that hurts

Your dick is just a ghost dick now
I can rip it off and you won’t even die

Okay nevermind

What I meant to say is

I fucking miss you

And this poem isn’t very good

I know it

So instead I’ll start over
with this one

It’s called

“Grab my ass inside of a Dunkin Donuts”

You fucking fool

Why do you think I came in here with you
in the first place"