Updated: Oct 1, 2021
This is the first poem in the newest collection I'm putting together. I've made this available only to the people on my mailing list as a preview of some of my more recent work. Keep in mind this is a work in progress, but please feel free to send me any questions of thoughts you might have, I'd love to hear from you.
Laying on my bed
at the end of freedom
Phone clutched deftly in my hand
Lifeline and Garrott.
It pings me,
telling me I have friends and I matter
Colorful images flash before me, a parade of curated lives
of friends I haven’t seen in months insistently pressuring me to listen
and judge myself
but not them
While I sit alone and dream of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
A day when I may be more like them,
more like their picturesque lives and phantom souls
When I can forget that I am here
on the last day before tomorrow and the rest of the days after that.
Another ping from my phone, another dreamy vision of life.
another reminder that I am less then them
my life is less interesting, less fun
And already I dread tomorrow’s tomorrow, the talk of travels and parties
Parties that I was never invited to
on the first day of classes, on the first day of high school
Ping. A picture of the sun and laughter. Ping. A picture of people and fire. Ping. The ocean waves at sunset. Ping. Group selfie. Ping. Selfie. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
I join the herd or selfies,
Another and another and another
No. no. no.
They look lame, looks like I’m trying to hard,
to be noticed
to be cool
to be the me that everyone will like
This one—the lights good, I’m smiling, I look fun—#selfiesunday
I look fun right?
Will people think I’m lame because I’m alone?
Will people think I’m a loser?
Will people think?
Will people care?
Do I want them to?
Ping. Ping. Comments. Ping. Ping.
I didn’t look at the background, my rooms a mess, my life’s a mess
Summer changes nothing.
School will change nothing.
Text a friend—a real friend—no answer.
1:00 am — sleep and dread tomorrow’s tomorrow again.