prying open a cobwebbed memory box,
I’m Totally Fine With It 👍 Don’t Give a Fuck Anymore:
sadness as a gift, experience as a weapon,
the turning of my bones against the tide of time
my heart as an emoji in a dumb poem.
turning experiences of thwarted ambition and folly
into the story of a destructive “chaos angel”
raised to (dis)believe in the poetry of love:
we are all born screaming and we all die silent,
but in the middle there are jokes about existence.
careening between romance and cynicism,
my lo-fi confessionals delve into heartbreak
and childhood to tell the story of a life,
exploding modernity—the mythic and paternal—
but dredging for hope in the rubble.
floating on a moment,
an extended hiatus to grieve,
I am now ready to believe, for good or ill:
trading Future Nostalgia for Radical Optimism,
no longer feeling self-conscious for happiness and excitement.