i go to those and these
poetry readings, show me
what i strive to never be:
a badly dressed attention whore

so i sneak up on the hours with reminders
that i have no value beyond my own head
and it's big enough for that
and maybe bigger

i urge you to watch a poet on youtube
that has at some point won an award
his penis becomes the world's sharpest sword
and each syllable secures a future in a high school english paper

while i continue writing, mostly on the toilet
to an audience of my dad and a fatigued stranger
both of whom are in constant danger
of receiving a phone call, and mechanically turning this page