Sit atop that pesky stool
As it rocks back and forth like
An unsyncopated metronome
Peel apart your lips
And run your tongue across them
Tell me... what do you taste like
Lift your leg to a bystanding seat
And rip at the coffee colored laces
Suffocating your ankles
Loosen them with calloused fingers
Only to retie then again, even tighter
Release picked at fingernails on the wobbling desk in front of you
And sway your shoulders to the beat
Raise and drop your shaky knees on instinct
This is what we do for distractions
This is how we handle the eerie silence
The anything but quintessential quiet
These are our cures for boredom.
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
