The New Creepiest Poem I Ever Wrote (ft. Uncle Sam and MC Friendzone)

I'm the destructively memorable song,

The cavalier uninvited. I just follow along.

I'm the thought you can't shake and you really can't share,

Chilling behind the back of your mind and sticking to your hair.
I'm that stomach-sinking sensation you get
When you notice forgetting not to to forget.
I'm that funny feeling that you're being followed home
And that existential certainty that you can't let someone know,
The split-second impression of "just to be nice"
And the hours of dread that implied "there's a price."
Just think of me as your respiration tax.

It's my job to ensure that you never relax.

Why I Write, Part x+266: Internal Rationalization of the Director's Commentary for #WeCanLandOnACometButICant (ft. My Internal Critic)

I don't do it often, but when I do, I find

That if I'm writing with an audience in mind

I do it not to move, but rather to impress,

Because impressive or amusing is what I like best.

It's rare words (or anything else) make me feel.

As a reader, the thought of it doesn't appeal

As would meeting (or being) the Pathosless Bard.

Also, to move people's pretty damn hard.

Why I Write, Part x+265: Director's Commentary for #WeCanLandOnACometButICant

I don't do it often, but when I do, I find

That if I'm writing with an audience in mind

I do it not to move, but rather to impress,

And that I'm rarely if ever at my personal best.

800 Days of Summer

In the last five years of “play ball!”

My Pirates have learned to stand tall.

Though I should be thankful, I'm appalled

To note, as the last of them turns to fall,

That they've yet to win anything Major at all.

Big

I sometimes pay a climbing price

To see a man enrobed in white,

With a clipboard only half-listen

To my half of our scripted missive

In which we dispute stories that others may tell

To explain why I've entered what he thinks is hell.

It is not to be blamed on the size of my bones,

Nor on an imbalance among my hormones,

Changes in my metabolism out of my hands

Or a disorder of one of my much-maligned glands,

But when I still grew in my own native land,

Someone told me to “be the bigger man.”

Damn right. I did it.

Mission accomplished.