NaPoWriMo: The 4/6 Stylings of Elisa Gabbert

BLOGPOEM W/ AUTORAPE


There are no new words, words I haven't mis-
pronounced or –used before, so I'm starting over—
with that A-hole who gave me an Atomic Harvest
tape and his debate club shirt that said
Making the world safe for hypocrisy; he saw
all those kids get killed in the bonfire, left a creepy
note on my car that I balled up and tossed
in the dumpster. I was eating an eggplant
parmesan sub, I lost that too. This is my fake
abecedarian, blasphemous chiclet diary entry
read by no one. Feels like getting caught
telling jokes to myself that I've already heard.
They pretty much tell themselves, I pretty much
just sync them up with my laugh track. I'd like
masturbation better if it could be a surprise attack.