If I were selfless, my glasses wouldn’t need nose pads
My pride won’t let me do less
Duty won’t let me be different
I need to settle down, yet don’t know how
How—am I human?
Do I even care anymore?
I’m the words in your ear
the illusion in your narrative
the vulgarity in your hatred
I am the pads rubbing off skin from the bridge of your nose
so you can see the work
Baby, you’re bitter jazz
you’ll be in a casket
when the shades come off



Interesting! thanks for sharing your poem :)
ahhhhh I was hoping to find a Bitter Jazz playlist here