we are strangers living in a house of three,
with too many windows that never open
and doors that slam shut (so)violently(that)
we never hear each other speak.

(not that we're talking, or even just listening)

all of our accomplishments are fastened high
on the darkcoldslate (of a) refrigerator door
with bright red and blue and white magnets
for the entire world to see and to feel.

(not that we're looking, or even just looking to feel)

i laugh when they fail, falling to the ground;
for all of our triumphs (so carefully surmounted)
to be swept into crevices and corners in the end,
it has to be one of the greatest ironies i know of.

(not that i'm laughing, or even just smiling at all anymore)


my computer crapped up on me yesterday, so i couldn't upload it until now. but here it is! at last.

i like this one. sort of.
i just don't like living it.