fucking waste of time

you think that all the language in the world
will unhinge the fact that you might just be
grade 0, rock bottom,

pretending,
imposing,
or maybe just even plain bored of all of us

because in the fields of whys and wherefores
you could never really make definitions
around a shapeless concept like me

and you could never really speak about how
your chest thumps like the sun
when you see her in the streets

and throws up like the moon
when you see me
lying on your pillow.

you think that all the language in the world
will unhinge the fact that when i dropped
you couldn’t pick me up

you held me and made me colder than your grandfather’s last breath
whatever was funny back then
never mattered now

whenever we hung out
you were the syllable that got stuck in my throat
and i just couldn’t cough you out

because you,
you, male, ventriloquist of the kiss
could never see

i was, am, always,
a thousand times worth more
than one beat of your heart.

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