Fragments

I despise

The stereotypes of my generation,

Mannequins with artificial, glued-on smiles,

Getting high on Zoloft, writing equations

On the black holes of chalk-boards, meanwhile,

Life passes by like an ex in see-through

Marijuana smoke through their blood-shod eyes,

Through their pitch-dark rooms where the sun has ceased to

Arise.

I despise clocks and watches, but adore photos.

I adore memory for it’s filled with potholes,

Where the time freezes and expands like water,

I adore puddles.

I adore reflections, but despise shadows,

On the pale white walls that attract them like magnets.

I despise emptiness for it makes things shallow,

I adore fragments.