(no subject)

[leisureanimal]

This is not a time for poetry
because I am somehow staving off an immense freak out
and my new apartment is filled with boxes labeled "objects"
my car is filled with all manner of dross
but not compared to my head right now

This is not a time for poetry
because, shit, I might break someone's heart tonight
but I can't think of it in the big picture sense
nothing is more paralyzing than that perspective, after all

This is not a time for poetry
because the gentleman's hand on my skin is far too eloquent
and the stiff drinks he mixes me tie my toungue in knots
like the kisses weren't enough to knock me speechless

This is not a time for poetry
because over free drinks in a red-lit bar
an old friend noted "look how far we've come!"
and I could give nothing but a toothy smile

This is not a time for poetry
because I always have both hands occupied
one waving goodbye to this season of my life
the other beckoning the future to please come quickly

This is not a time for poetry
because oftentimes I'm content to lie in the gentleman's bed
under the blanket that reminds me of a bear
with an old movie flickering in the dark room
and his bottom lip in my teeth

This is not a time for poetry
because my heart threatens to explode
with the combination of housemates, friends, the gentleman
and nourishment I have forgotten to supply myself with

This is not a time for poetry
and honestly it scares me -
what am I without the subtle meter of postmodern verse
and clever turns of phrase to capture my day?