Jagged Thought #96: The World Pretends to Know Me


I am not a nobody.

I was a never be.
I was the usual suspect
I was Keyser Söze
I was a wooden crate
packed away in a vault.

I was a wonderlust.
I was a champagne supernova
(where were you when I was getting high?)
I was a wank in a theater,
a bed bug in your death bed.

I was a wet spot on the ceiling
I kept leaking, I drove you mad.
I was the cylinder that you set fire too.
I was the poem about a match
That was declined by some hipster asshole
at Ampersand.

I was that crying poet.
I was that black eye.
I was that bulls eye. 

I was that stain on your shirt
That made you miss the job interview.

I was that time your mother
caught you wanking.

I was the shame and disappointment.
The shock and awe.
I was that filthy towel.

I was the glass that you put up against the wall
To hear your mother and father fight.

I was the broken vase, that fell from the night stand
I was your mothers tears, when she said
Her mother made that, that
It was a family heirloom
And that you broke everything.

I was the note you left when you left
And said you would never come back.

And I was there when you came back.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.


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