the internet doesn't know what's wrong with me

(( an old poem ))

Obituaries bloom like rotten drugstore valentines

A damsel (me) snorts 5 tons of that speculative stuff (you) then cries in the deepest pit of postpartum shit

Oh image producer power Oh pill like a cross Oh pie in the sky

Oh say did you see

The way that flag kissed the wind?

Oh say did you hear 

The crowds went home?

Nuclear families, health insurance, student loans

The fields are all empty now

It’s 

Springtime and my eyelids start sprouting skinny petals 

No doctor and

The internet doesn’t know what’s wrong with me 

See?

Bathroom break on the clock