You WASTED Me (Typography Edition) [Poet's Cut]

I should’ve known,

When you questioned my personality on the overpass,

Reducing me to some silly stereotype,

But I agreed.

I’d welcomed myself to the Emerald City,

A vast library with the tallest ceilings that tapered my stomach,

Only for the biting breeze to blow the blanket off my window,

The freezing air warped my expectations,

But I molded them back.

I should’ve known,

When you didn’t understand me,

You didn’t like me, 

Not really, not especially, if not for the convenience of our friendship.

You didn’t like my vernacular, my teasing, my play,

I didn’t like your ego, your unhealthy attachment to your boyfriend, your counterintuitive intelligence.

Even she couldn’t keep us glued together,

The bridge who you stood more firmly on,

And after the first year, we barely spoke,

The funny thing was,

I didn’t miss you much.

Did you miss me?

Did you ever learn to tame your frizzy amber hair, long like a horse’s mane?

Did you make new friendships that wouldn’t start with laughter and end in snapping?

I’ll never know.

What is it with this sonder? 

It’s tainted, improperly refracted by the dark, unyielding clouds.

Don’t just sit across from me! I don’t know you. 

Why are you talking to me about religion? Your logic is flawed beyond even the usual fallacies.

We may not be as social as rats, but I thought I’d form a pack at some point or other.

And I did.

Then came the end and the new beginning.

I like the view from my room, the courtyard and its outside noise.

I could stay here forever, get food when I need to, design when I have to.

Hold my breath, tighten my stomach, cover up.

Talk to no one.

If only your ego hadn’t returned in its new form.

What learning I am experiencing! What fun this machinery is!

To capture not just a shot but an essence, a message, a creative expression.

I should’ve know when you blocked my work,

When you mistook a test shot for a real feature,

When I fell flat on the device you loaned me,

And cried while rubbing alcohol on the wound,

​​Images of straight-through places look so perfect, but the novelty fades as you realize you can't truly go there,

The wall told me that all I can do is be me,

So I left.

But your gravity wouldn’t let me escape,

You need someone to put everything together,

Morph into the perfect product in one night,

The pictures, the words, the art of it all,

Black, white, and red all over,

With the blood I gave at one am,

Not by anyone who matters.

When you finally broke free of your cage,

You took your medieval style with you,

Then a new mother came along.

She was insecure,

Less experienced, less strict,

I could finally explore the screen as was always meant to be,

But then she got her voice, 

Louder than mine, everyone’s was louder than mine,

How could I be so low on the ladder if you need me so much?

If I’m sick for just one night, the entire operation halts.

Where’s my gravity? My pull? My influence?

Though we enjoyed our laughs, 

I never liked your stir fry, your pancakes, your cheese curds,

The smoke billowed, the windows were nailed shut,

I had to leave before I burned.

By then, my voice cried its final goodbye,

You don’t want me to sing free,

You don’t want me to sing high,

You only want me to fit inside your little mixing bowl,

When I tried to move, you harkened an even deeper spot,

I respectfully rejected, though really I’d wanted to yell:

You are an educator, yet you remain silent.

You are meant to teach, yet you choose anguish instead.

You are designed to encourage, yet you lambast me with a patronizing smile.

The beach couldn’t keep me.

The warmth in March wouldn’t console me.

The potential for friends wasn't enough.

How foolish was I to actually think I could find someone here?

A pristine ocean I’d wished for, but all I received was a swamp.

God doesn’t give with both hands.

I don’t believe in Him, so He didn’t have any to give with.

The two of you found me through sneaky means,

I’d agreed to a talk just for the sake of conversing,

But I’d found the half-date, recognized him from earlier,

His muscles made me consider, but his mentalities were barbaric,

A short walk taught me to never trust a second impression,

A casual stroll taught you to float away like a specter.

The other one I’d recognized had a trickster friend. 

In my first place alone, I am anything but.

The red roaches make me shriek in terror,

Crunched and mangled down the drain,

They somehow find their way back,

Behind the fridge, on my bed, slithering across the tub.

I try to spray them away,

Kept my cabinets open for two days,

“They eat each other’s dead bodies,” she said,

Those cannibals kept coming back.

In this world full of mess, we can only clean ourselves,

But the machines would always break,

Steal my money and turn me into an angry advocate,

I say what I mean and mean what I say,

Your phone call couldn’t change that,

I stood by every word,

“My name is Ryder.” Update your records,

You never paid me back the first time around,

Give me three each, not your pathetic one-two combo,

Don’t french your girl on the steps, it’s unprofessional,

“You patched up the holes!” you exclaim,

“Yes, I did,” but I hadn’t.

You never found the one hole that was my fault.

I can always rely on my unhealthy habit of joining groups at the wrong time,

How could I have known my research would be so slow?

In here lay just one of three goals I had for these four years,

Easy enough, it had to be.

Though I’d finished the assignments, the reward was gone.

Across the stage, he gave a bleak speech,

Even the one in power couldn’t part the overcast sky.

After removing four teeth and changing places,

It was time for the second to last phase of my life,

The longest one,

The endless one,

The working one.

I’ve returned, two summers later with a new level of permanency,

I’d prepared myself for the hours, but not for the actual result.

What is this obsolete schedule,

This false sense of availability, 

This degrading theft of time?

Why does everyone say they love it here,

Only for me to find the cracks then patch them up?

Why is the culture so foreign even though it’s native?

I make my first presentation then discover that this isn’t school,

There’s no grade or feedback or stakes,

There’s just doing,

And I don’t have to do everything well.

Do you know that she doesn’t like you?

She wants to get rid of you.

I like you, we all do.

You may not know some key elements,

But you care about us, ask us how we’re doing and mean it,

She wants us to be efficient, though she lacks knowledge of the limit, the ceiling, the desires versus realities.

I could do what she does, so why does she get to do it?

Why won’t she listen to us?

She who cares more about her name than her actions,

Who tries to mingle our unrelated missions.

You sneak me into your room one morning,

I’d wanted to be just five minutes earlier than usual, to make sure I had enough time,

What a brilliant plan that was.

“There have been complaints about you.”

The electric discharge circles around my stomach in concentric loops.

How could this be?

“I’m so sorry. You’ll see a change immediately.”

Then the meeting, where I discovered everything was fake.

You took over, pillaged my position that you’d given up because you couldn’t handle it,

I’d stepped up,

But you don’t like me,

You don’t like the way I lead my team,

You should hear what they say behind your back,

But they still listen to you up front.

I am a masochist to my own empathy, 

Slobbering over my words, trying to take everyone into account,

The panic is potent without remission,

After all, reputation is in the mouth of the accuser,

You struck first.

My truth’s not in the eye of your hurricane of lies, it got demolished by your tsunami,

“Did we step on his toes too much?” the next day says,

Yes, you did. 

You Righteous, Irate, Arrogant, Callous version of me.

You switch your perspectives faster than I switch formatting,

“I don’t let work dictate my feelings,”

Then why are you crying the next day?

Why must I pay when I’m the consistent one?

Why must you target me?

Why do you surrender grace only when you’re not present?

The red flags couldn’t stay hidden for much longer,

They’re pushing me out,

The worst part,

The slow burn,

The endless will-they won’t-they,

The degrading logistics,

You can’t rearrange puzzle pieces and expect them to still fit together,

You can’t forget about me, I’m the best you have,

You’re not doing that, though, you’re just hooking me like a poor trout.

Release me, please.

I should’ve known,

When there wasn’t anything close to fireworks. 

Pop goes the one with the trickster friend,

Five years later, he shows his face,

After months of failed outings,

Trying to keep a smile even when the expectations beat me down my pessimistic well,

You came back for me.

Your friend wasn’t the trickster, you were, fooling yourself.

I don’t mind,

My friends tell me to be careful, but I want this now,

How much longer must I wait for the ultimate pleasure?

After finally inviting you over, we sit on my couch,

I have a tall man sitting on my couch,

We chat about…career plans, life goals….

My immaturity is flashing, the naivety that age can’t fix without the companion experience,

“Light some candles,” my friend had said,

I thought she’d been joking.

We move to the bedroom and lay there,

“Can we do something to dispel the tension?” he says,

What tension? I think,

This is just a room,

I sleep here and now your outside body is on my bed,

But this is what I’ve been wanting,

If only I’d known I couldn’t complete the action without that key piece,

Some clothing comes off,

We share my first kiss and….oh, no,

The foul funk fills my mouth, his bristly mustache scrapes my lips,

His hand is somewhere I should feel, 

But the nerves are closed,

The knot in my stomach tightens as it expands,

“I’m just not into it.”

You leave,

I need to walk,

I need to be clean,

“You weren’t attracted to him,” my mom informs me.

Then the rat king approved the changes to the puzzle,

There is nothing we can do,

Your presentation is useless,

I’m surprised he even entertained the meeting,

My only choice is to float…

But then came,

YOU.

Whenever we enter the same room,

Your face lights up with that sweetheart smile,

Waving your hand as you set your phone on the table,

You’re elated just to be near me,

“You look just like my son,”

You recognize traits that others ignore,

Finally, there is someone who understands my talent.

I’m unsure at first,

But the offer is too good to turn down,

“I see so much potential in you,”

“This position will grow.”

I should’ve know when I saw the girl on the phone,

Sitting there,

Doing nothing.

I should’ve known when you bypassed my negotiations, 

Didn’t respect my terms as everyone said you would.

“No siloes here,”

I should’ve known there would never be a harvest.

But if they were pushing me out, I had to fit in somewhere else.

“Let’s do it!”

For the others,

My leave was unceremonious, 

“We’ve raised many of you,” the competent man said,

Just to move on to something else,

You can’t keep anyone,

And I've never had to wonder why.

For you, 

I delivered a twin birth in five weeks.

You couldn’t even replace me because of the money,

You probably would have let me go within a year,

How satisfactory my situation is, 

Finally.

Six weeks for the transition.

I should’ve known when you weren’t there on my first day,

When nothing was ready.

I should’ve know when the girl on the phone said,

“This is not a good place to work,” on my second day,

But maybe it was just her.

“Sit at the front desk to learn more.”

The girls up here are hysterical,

We laugh right away,

There’s no work to do,

None at all,

So we can only talk.

When I am pulled away,

I learn what a bastard this town is,

Ripping the hard work from the competent next one over and doing it half as well,

Not at all well,

Not doing anything, really,

All that grant money without any way to utilize it,

Even when the dictator finally left,

The new leader tries to do his best, but the members don’t understand,

They never will.

“I'm just gonna take off my government hat and say please God, send us an amazing youth rep.”

Find one yourself.

Trying desperately to grasp at any project crumbs,

We jump conversation topics,

“Don’t trust her,” they tell me. “She snitches.”

She also listens because her life is as mundane as her work.

The boss who I didn’t even know was my boss pulls me into a room,

A sheet from the handbook rests on the table,

I’ve been here before but my courage needs time,

“I understand.”

“Please keep this confidential,” the other one says.

Absolutely not.

The other two get the talk,

But they have my back,

“They’re so stupid,” she says,

“Buckle up buttercup,” she says,

“I don’t like them picking on you,” she says,

They tell me the defense,

I’m not in school anymore, and you are not my almighty superior,

When they pull me in again,

I counter, I claim, I correct,

They reject, they discriminate,

“Do you worry about me being in the classroom?”

They hate, 

They draw lines outside lines until it’s all illiterate,

Your externalized misogyny belongs solely in a sitcom, ridiculed only ten years later for its barbaric botulated beliefs,

If bleeding is inappropriate, then you need to scold yourselves as well,

You are complicit in your own illustration,

You press the panic button, pull the reins on my whole operation,

You don’t trust me enough to forge my own path yet you don’t pave one for me either,

What is it you want?

Compliance.

I am not the type.

And what is it you do?

That woman had entered, desperate for help, but we couldn’t treat her wounds,

We can’t aid anyone like her,

She maintains her composure as the incredulous frustration builds,

I respect her, I feel sorry for her,

“They can’t keep this up for long.”

I went back to the front, lest that beige cell overtake my mind with its cruel emptiness.

You finally returned.

“I've never had to do this before,” 

Well, what can I say?

I’m one in a million.

At three past the twelfth hour, you unleashed the biggest injustice of this establishment,

Worse than the plagiarism, worse than the bureaucracy and inefficiency,

“You're a wealth of knowledge,”

But you don't accept my currency,

“We can’t trust you to be out in public,”

Then why did we just yesterday talk about showing me around?

“You can’t even follow simple direction,”

You set me up to fail.

“I know your heart, I know your potential,”

You’ve known me for three weeks.

I should’ve known you were a liar.

You shed tears while my face is dry,

You feign innocence as I internalize my faults,

You ignite brimstone and burn all my foolish daydreams to the ground.

The weeks that pass overflow with regurgitated bile,

I don't like your tiny, deli-reject lips,

I despise your obsolete personality,

I relish in the fantasy of you accomplishing nothing.

You’d showed me the scar below your waistline,

Fresh, it was still bleeding,

Out in the front, anyone could've seen,

You thought it appropriate,

Others might have considered it obscene,

Does that change anything?

Does that fit inside your boundary?

Your malicious mental deficiencies garnished by your fleeting capabilities will forever follow me like the acrid stench of an animal carcass left for dead on the road, 

Your pity won't even afford me to be your dinner. 

Is this my fate,

To make the same mistake five years too late?

I took the road less traveled by and it was still filthy with potholes, 

The freezing air, blue as the governor but opposite of the majority politics,

Don’t say, don’t direct, don’t fund.

Can experience and education ever be a waste?

Should I fill my days wondering if the future has no use for my past and present?

What a siphoning mentality,

All the projects, ideals, values, 

Can suddenly vanish,

Down the drain of this shallow sink,

But my passion fights to stay afloat.

I didn't have to execute everything well yet still excelled in trying,

Even when I fought against my own instincts, 

As if one could perfect reciprocity.

“Your life is not over at 23,” my mom says.

Man invented sin to punish those she deemed unworthy of humanity,

Only to be corrected by visiting the place of origin,

This cosmic damage may turn the tide in a year,

But patience has never been my strongest characteristic.

What a desolate land this is,

Full of stunning incompetency in places one should never find it,

The medical team for neglecting their basic principles,

The social workers for improperly diagnosing policies,

The supervisor who made me realize that we’re all swimming through the muck together.

I want you to know, the pain I feel for not being transparent,

For keeping my leaving a secret until I could finally get out,

You’re not better off than me,

I hope my silence won’t miscarry,

I crave you find a replacement,

Who won’t flee like me,

I’m so sorry,

This was never meant to be.

-

I was a sadist to my supporters,

I did not consent.

Poet's Cut:

Do you remember?

When we were driving in your car,

Having just left the meeting I’d aced,

Enchanted came up on the speakers,

And I remarked that it wasn’t Taylor’s Version,

You’d fumbled with your phone,

“It’s in here somewhere,”

But you had to keep your eyes on the road.

I remember,

The warmth I felt while bonding with you,

My boss,

As if that’s normal,

The expected relationship between two people like us,

Because you made it that way.

For Mama:

I am flabbergasted 

By the fact that some companies are so 

Inexplicably inefficient, 

Unceremoniously uncommunicative, and 

Hopelessly siloed that they will spend 

Thousands of dollars on 

Consultation fees just to 

Potentially 

Improve their work culture, 

Here is a tip to every CEO that’s ever lived, 

Will continue to live, and be 

Born in the future: 

Let people who are good at their job, 

Simply do their job. 

How can so many people like me and hate me at the same time?

“Hey bubba, you need anything? Grab coffee?”

How can I brighten others while the rest get drowned by the underside of my wave?

You appreciate my authenticity until you realize that we are not the same,

What am I supposed to do then?

Covering up feels like a crime against myself,

A moral dilemma only because I have to work with you,

Everywhere else, the answer is simple:

I am fantastical.

You are deluded.

The sheet from the handbook is quiet,

As are you,

Look at your faces!

You lack of assurance baffles me,

Are you above me or not? 

Pick a lane and act like it,

Bossy when it's easy but not when there's conflict,

She didn't even tell you she was getting rid of me,

And after all you had to do while she was gone!

We laugh about how incapable you all are,

“You're too good for this place.”

I know it!

Here lay the poet’s mind,

Warping through his mental dictionary,

Forcing the words out, no matter how blunt,

Yet I still cannot find the right combination of letters to express,

How painful it is to lay knowledge and education to rest.

Opportunities might arise for me to visit the grave,

Leave a flower or stone,

But that doesn’t change the death I’ve experienced,

What was once so important has become perplexingly unnecessary,

I only crave those opportunities not because I still care,

But because I care about the principle,

That information and caring and valuing and planning is never a waste,

I don’t know.

It pains me to not know.

It hurts to wonder if my ultimate creation won’t ever be of use,

They never wanted it,

I want to keep wanting it,

Please,

Let it happen.