Finding yourself.

How long does it take?
Two years?
Or ten?
Twenty or three months or one?
More if you don’t talk,
less if you do.
Forever, if you keep asking when.
How long does it take?
As long as it does.
If you write, if you wait, if you don’t.
Forever if you think
that it doesn’t matter.
But it won’t,
if you think
that it won’t.
How long does it take?
I thought:
it would have been less,
Because it seems like it went on forever.
But it seems to have taken
as long as it took
Just remember,
It never takes never.

An observational poem.

This is an observational poem.
Observational poems are about things the writer
has seen
is seeing
has been
or believes
or has made up as being.

Which means this is going to go one of three ways.

1. You are my project
2. You are my subject
3. You are subjected to my project

You are wearing a shirt you are not sure about
You are embarrassed at her loud voice
His laugh
This place
You are tired of your child’s


You are pretending to listen
(to what he is saying).
You are hoping she will stay for one.
You are scrolling for flaws in the images of others
which you will never find
like you are able to find in the images of yourself.

You do not want to be here.
You wish that he was not here.
You do not feel that you belong here.
I cannot believe that you are really here.

You are pretending not to watch me as intently as I pretend not to notice you.

You are scared that I have sussed you out.
You are scared.
(I have sussed you out).

Writing is hard.

Writing them down was so easy
(You should not feel bad about that, but it was).
It was
The thing was, was
there were all of these feelings,
and the more that there were
the easier they were, were to write,
so right
And so on
and so on
and so on
and so
it is ok now though because
Even though now though,
I feel dead inside.
Too many words, all the same.
It was easy.
Better not to write them down
Better not to write them down.