What do I even say?
You’re single. I just checked your facebook. It’s kind of an unreal feeling. I’m not sure why it matters; I leave in two months. I’m going to the school of your dreams. Is that reason enough to add you as a friend?
Holy fuck. You spoke to me.
This shouldn’t be possible. This is surreal. You commented on the school I am going to next year, and said it was where you had wanted to go. I wish I could have dragged that conversation out much, much longer, but I am still getting over a cold and I know my voice must have been incredibly nasally. I watched you eat an apple, transfixed on the film being shown. Today was unbelievable. I know nothing will ever come of it. I know you have no idea that it meant so much to me, but it brightened my day so much.
People understand drawing in a way they never seem to understand poetry.
Anyone can look at a sketch and say “Oh that’s a bird” or “Oh there are two lovers” or “Is that man being decapitated?” A poem is simply words. We see words all the time. Anyone can write words these days. On top of the medium being so commonplace there’s also the dull fact that you’ve got to put forth the effort to read the damn things. What drudgery this is to skim over your TPS report and then be expected to process even more textual information in order to appreciate art. Is there no end to the price of sophistication? Why is there a talent so useless as the affinity and marriage to the poetic form? Hear you me, poets must have transgressed greatly in some way to be punished so.
curl your legs around me and
melt into my skin.
| — | Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott) (via quote-book) |
