I love that new Taylor Swift song.

You know that one.
The one that talks about Karma.
Because Karma is my best friend.

Like buds to the end,
playing pretend while
fishing, catching the bends
with my old Chuck shoes.

Untying the noose,
the one that my dad gave to me.
It’s old news.

Letting the backpack empty out,
Healing the bruises of all the
mistakes, and whoopsie doses
when I was outside and frozen
by the ocean with a coke nose broken.

That wounded dove flies freely,
the skin open, I have been chosen
to write words written
with no fucks to give
’cause they’ve already been given.

Don’t need anything
but the rhythm of the
fingers on the keyboard.

Stopped writing in notebooks
when I died on the sword
but couldn’t afford
the train ride.

Explore for a minute,
what I mean by that?
I had anxiety in
my spinach top hat, block head.

With the chalk tip pens,
I waited and sat
And rapped, rapped, rapped
on my chamber door,
wondering where the world went
when I was sleeping on the floor,
when I could barely take no more.

An angel knocked.
I answered her door.
Darkness there
and nothing


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.