this poem doesn’t tell a story

period

this poem isn't a good poem

the kind where the doves wilt at the very end

or his love puffs out in a smoker’s dribble

it sure as hell doesn't have a good writer

I'm sitting here right now, hello everyone!

this poem’s writer doesn't give two sh*ts about 

what words sound decent as they’re rashly 

splattering down crap into an open document

their keyboard reeks of carelessness

this poem doesn’t seem very nice

because it’s not

it isn’t courteous like a polite houseguest 

removing grimy sandals at the cement porch

and it’s not elegant like two death planes

as they kill 2,996 Americans

and more by affiliation

this poem doesn’t make you feel

sad or happy or choky or diarrheic

it doesn’t tighten your throat or loosen your bowels

or make you remember your blonde abuser’s hand

or their juicy coffin

this poem isn’t like those cringy love ones

the disgusting type that I scoff and hawk at 

whenever I watch Hallmark with my boyfriend

god does no-one understand good writing anymore

I certainly don’t

this poem is bad

it isn’t conventional because it doesn’t follow a form

those hoity-toity villanelles and rondelets

but it also isn’t unconventional in a cool way

like nonsense poems and concrete poems

it’s just flat-out dull

this poem doesn’t give me joy

and motivate me to keep writing it

this poem doesn’t