I’m tired of being love’s
recruit. I want to enlist
in hate
I wish there was a dose
of something that would
make me care less.
I’m tired of doing math, I
forgot a long time ago.
Tonight, I want to get
wrecked and call it
victory.
I want to sleep on the
deathbed of empathy.
and be reborn a cynic.
Instead, I’ll wake
tomorrow. Victory
sinking and thinking
love is as necessary
as a soul patch to
a hipster.
Never content to let
it rest. Always trying
to stitch it and people
back together.
Always a sucker
for Mahler and his
tragedies.
Always in tune with
the birds weeping
in the trees.
Never content to
hide in dark places
with the moon.
Always making
something out of
nothing that
isn’t there.
-Tosha Michelle
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