Sometimes I’m bitter like my favorite beer, 
my expression so hard you could knock on it like 
that’s what my favorite wine tastes like, 
is dark sometimes like the innards of my brain.

A genuine expression of myself and my brain would be ugly 
because so much of me is sharp edges covered 
in other people’s blood. I swear, I didn’t mean to 
bite with my words. 
I listen to silence when I’m upset, and sad songs 
when I’m content, which is probably why my mother 
says I always write sad things. 
I can never seem to write anything good when I’m happy 
which probably says something about my true self 
that I’m trying to write a poem about.

Yesterday I felt one of those rare 
genuine rushes of content, as I drove home 
and sang I Want to Know What Love Is
if there’s anything I’d use to describe myself 
it would have to be an 80’s ballad.

Lista de imágenes:

1. Vuk Oreb, Pop Art