oh, I see.

she wants a steady hand, and smooth script
stretching towards infinity.
she wants those wanton words
wrapped in needless syllables.
she wants what she wants. what she wants
is not this.

not my short & stumbling text; one word
tumbling towards the next. not these
scribbled, sloppy secrets; chopped up
and half-confessed. she'd much rather view
a ten-cent vocabulary flexed...

but I digress.

my hopeless,
broken english
speaks volumes.

mostly, it talks about me.

sometimes, it says "hey!
we're doing new & exciting things
with heartbreak,
down here."

sometimes, it just
screams
and screams
and screams
and screams -

'til someone comes
running.

sometimes,
(busted & beautiful)
it exclaims & explains.
it enlightens
and entertains!

yeah,

sometimes...

but, mostly,
it doesn't.