I'm "listening" to thirty second samples

of scores because I'm too "poor."

I'd rather have a feather bed to "sleep" in

maybe or a "really good" sushi meal. 

(My diploma was saran wrapped

and heat sealed, mailed on a Sunday.

I'm sweating, a bit dehydrated.

I have a predilection for 1:30 am camomile.) 

There's "nothing" in the "world"

that can stop me from "succeeding."

And "interpersonal relationships" are interesting.

Maybe it's better to stay "Facebook friends" [sic]. 

(I took the saran wrap, went on a ride

in a rusty civilian airplane. I felt sick,

so I barfed in the silky plastic.

Silky barf plastic sick.) 

The "tears" I cry mean so much "more"

than they "seem."

In my "status update" I can't seem spell it out.

It's not what I "really mean" when I say "goodbye." 

(I get a feeling that I get what it's about.

But I want to spend the day wondering

what it's all about.

And update my Twitter status something good.) 

Where do I "begin" to say "thanks?"

You "helped me" reach the "stars."

I'll "really miss you."

Please take my "card" on the way "out." 

(I threw away the diploma, because

it was just a fake anyway. Seriously,

I didn't pay my dues or whatever.

Maybe it's something I can do without.)

by Lindsea