01-27-2016, 05:35 PM
“am i happy”
I ask the Internet
as I sit in old pajamas
still in bed on a Saturday
11AM.
I have a staring match with the search bar.
It blinks first, but it is I who’s lost
myself in Google pages
on topics of self help and otherwise
but helplessly
I find no self love
anywhere.
An ad flashes neon at me:
want big tits and no worries
75k working from home
magic pills make you just like
Barbie (yes, the blonde one!)
and answers to all life’s questions?
Tell me.
no.
--caps lock--
TELL ME!
for just $19.99/month, you too could…
for christ’s sake
I tap the “home” key
but I’m not in mommy’s arms;
instead a banner pops up
saying my account balance
is lower than my standards
after a few shots at a frat party.
My heart beats its fists into my brain
hapPY? HAPpy? hapPY? HAPPY?
Like the third day of a caffeine trip.
Maybe it was the coffee on my sheets,
stained by last week’s Joe
“He was handsomer at the bar”
I thought when he smiled and shut my door
the morning after. He never called.
I could see its rearing head
in the reflection of my Mac screen:
the zit between my eyebrows
no makeup could cover
the bruises on the inside
were the ugliest.
Double click.
Delete all.
Blink. Blink---
Blank.
I ask the Internet
as I sit in old pajamas
still in bed on a Saturday
11AM.
I have a staring match with the search bar.
It blinks first, but it is I who’s lost
myself in Google pages
on topics of self help and otherwise
but helplessly
I find no self love
anywhere.
An ad flashes neon at me:
want big tits and no worries
75k working from home
magic pills make you just like
Barbie (yes, the blonde one!)
and answers to all life’s questions?
Tell me.
no.
--caps lock--
TELL ME!
for just $19.99/month, you too could…
for christ’s sake
I tap the “home” key
but I’m not in mommy’s arms;
instead a banner pops up
saying my account balance
is lower than my standards
after a few shots at a frat party.
My heart beats its fists into my brain
hapPY? HAPpy? hapPY? HAPPY?
Like the third day of a caffeine trip.
Maybe it was the coffee on my sheets,
stained by last week’s Joe
“He was handsomer at the bar”
I thought when he smiled and shut my door
the morning after. He never called.
I could see its rearing head
in the reflection of my Mac screen:
the zit between my eyebrows
no makeup could cover
the bruises on the inside
were the ugliest.
Double click.
Delete all.
Blink. Blink---
Blank.




)
- get rid of it