Every day she asks me why i won’t get up.
Every day i lay there, letting her words drown me like my bed covers, while i try to think of an answer:
who refused to drink society’s kool-aid,
am so wrapped up in romantic comedies i literally
get sick after stalking each plot line in order to figure out the criteria
i’m supposed to hold, each MAN who walks into my life,
who refused to drink the kool-aid
bathed in it instead
allowing it to still seep into my pores and
hinder my own thoughts of how i want to be treated.
or how i want to love.
i am just like every other stupid
so when you ask me why i hate to get up in the morning
hate to go to school and hate to “hop in loser we’re going shopping”
maybe it’s because i’d rather sleep forever than
dissolve into the crowd just like everyone else.
just like you.
But these thoughts never pry through my lips as words.
instead i mumble “five more minutes”
just like every
in the movies.