Poems

Words I’d like to call art.

Journalism

does your mother know that you’re making somebody’s daughter cry?

what would she say if she found out you’ve pushed me further away?

would she sigh and say what a waste?

will she wonder why you brought me along in the first place?

the same way i wonder?

how would she react to yet another the one in your car?

where else would she tag along?

when will your mom tell you to bring her home?

who’ll be on you shoulder the next time your mother sees?

I don’t like calling my art poems though much might say so, I never think that my silly little writings are ever good enough to be called “art” I always thought that, that would make actual poets felt invalidated. But if art is whatever the artist thinks is, then I’d like to think that this is art.

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