the art of silent rage (fuck you, fuck you, fuck you)

her name was “I,”
but she told everyone, “call me, Me”
and then they did
and so she was
whoever or
whatever

the only people who liked her
were slightly drunk strangers
and the people who hated her the most
were her friends and parents
or
anyone who knew her
at all

Me was always saying, “I is a fleeting thought”
and I was always saying “Me is the same as I”

she and me and I were all alone
and we lied, we stole,
and had (inside) a hole
so gaping
that there was no use in naming
people –
i am not I and i am not Me and me is not i or I is not me

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s