read my email, nothing worth while
couldn't sleep, you god damn know why
pushing cigar smoke into the sky
on a warm december night

ate a fruit rollup with a sigh
the dating scene is a bucket full of lies
compliments about the complexity of your eyes
rigid expectations, double standards, and single-round fights

functional relations, bartender, where is my damn drink
think, god, my brother's really doing well
and damn, my hometown buddy too, i can tell
going to his wedding in may, my first time

and the poem deteriorates into a drunk text message
that will never be sent
like this month's rent
or the letter informing all my exgirlfriends that i loved them
but they just sucked in bed