Poetry: IT'S COOL, OFFICER, IT WASN'T ME
I surrender
to the teenage wasteland that was going to the mall, buying up every five-dollar surprise bag keeping the landfill pockets flowing through plastic veins and the liquid made me feel alive, if only to tear through
more more more
I surrender to the chemicals that layered my skin, marketed to make me a better human as long as I bought it
because it was two-for-one
because it was on sale
need need need my heart still lusts for those material lifelines whispering in my ear you finally belong
clutching onto the pulsing voices,
I lean in closer to hear threads ripping open,
dropping goods at my door
and I
surrender
that I never stopped them, told myself
I didn’t know any better
I couldn’t stop taking, you know? it was so easy to steal from corner stores and ladies’ pockets even though it wasn’t me
I got blamed for it all the same
by the end, I had to decide which friends were the burners and which ones got burned which ones were disposable? It was my turn to set fire, ignite good riddance to cheap friendship bracelets that snap under pressure
to watch their beads unfold
and roll roll roll
in my palm, I count their everlasting
devotion to me
drop them one by one off the edge
watch them tumble
like they’re a purple, but
my favourite colour is blue now
and it’s uncool to care about things that don’t matter anymore
Originally published at: https://www.windsorofchange.com/blog/2019/10/1/its-cool-officer-it-wasnt-me