So. Yeah.

This was assignment for poetry class. Our model poem was "Merengue" by ...augh the poets name slips my mind. Anyway, we had to list a bunch of subjects, verbs, and statements, make the subjects and verbs into questions, and then sandwich them between the statements. This is how mine came out on a very dark day, Enjoy.

Humans like everything set in stone.
Feelings. Plans. Life. Everything.
Clearly, I can’t handle anything in stone,
Which is weird because I live at Rock Bottom.
Isn’t that where we met?
How can I not remember what I’d said?
Isn’t fear some kind of weird substance, like milk?
Did you know I hate stones? They remind me of empty fingers now.
Do you know how much I hate them? They remind me of Plum Island on memorial day.
Did you know I can’t even look at stones? They scare me.
When you see a stone do you think of the ocean?
When you see a stone do you think of sand
And cold feet?
When you see a stone do you feel betrayed?
What is wrong with my brain?
Did I forget to reassure my circular pattern?
Isn’t it clear that I hate circles almost as much as I hate stones?
Can time be patient? Is that even possible?
Can everyone stop talking?
Can I stop thinking?
What on earth have I done? Better yet, what am I doing?
What kind of messed up, cold, and destructive creature
Has taken over the self I thought I had a grasp on?
What is a grasp, anyway?
Isn’t it a nasty kind of bug that tricks you into thinking you’ve caught it
But it just comes back and stings you in the end.
Isn’t that what I thought I knew?
What is that smell? It makes me happy.
Is this how it feels at a crossroad? Am I stuck?
Why can’t it be June?
Did you really think I could jump without looking?
When you were singing, wasn’t it obvious I could hear from down here?
What is this awful feeling in my gut?
Didn’t you know I’m lactose intolerant?
Didn’t you know that milk kills me inside?
No?
Neither did I.
If you ever think back to that day, just remember that
Milk is a venomous liquid, and I can’t bear the sight of stones.