Do we just drop and take these

small fragments of self and store them in those

who store themselves inside us

until we forget which pieces were which?

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Sorry, not dead

I always hated being called poet
but I guess shoe fits.
it’s certainly a
suitable nominal title
even though I never majored in English.

and sure I never read Austin
it’s okay; neither did they.
they only wrote a bunch of essays
and haven’t since the day they graduated

I guess now we’re on the same page

I’m admittedly a slow reader
fast learner
persistent do-er

with

no clue how the sociohistorical context reflects any way I try to create.
you really think that was on the mind of any single one of the greats?

I mean maybe.

I don’t know.

I haven’t studied.

It’s okay.
You can shut me up easily.
I fall swiftly to someone seeming more pretentious than me.

(Yes
I know it’s “I”
go away)

I spent most of my morning
looking for my phone
pressing a button
collecting imaginary resources
until my bag was full.

But I wanted to ask Ben
if the upgrade was worth is
if the ex was worth the cost.

A bit worried about the
slight pain in my gums,
I feel  a bit lucky
I’m finally able to worry
about such small problems.

Breathe deep

and realize I haven’t
in 5 months.

Exhale.