Here’s Another Really F-ing Weird Poem Thing I Wrote on Ambien

by Noise Pollution

It’s okay to feel empty
if you are really empty
but I don’t think you are empty after all

She wore a tight, tight shirt
no matter what she did,
no matter who she was with
but I guess that’s none of my goddamn business
and I have no right to judge her
so I won’t
I will not judge or misjudge her

and I hear whispers
from behind her head
where a boy approaches
and puts his hand on her neck

and I look away
and into my drink
there’s no reason to care
or think about anything

and I step outside my house
’cause it is my fucking house
and I’m alone out here
and everyone else…

Should I stay in the yard?
and spare my bed for a couple the needs it
’cause I don’t want to be in my room tonight

It’s okay to feel sickly
if you are really a bit sickly
and I can tell you’re kind of sickly after all

She wore a red bra
under it all
I watched it fall
off her skin, how did it come to this…?
and now do I have room to judge her?
I won’t judge or misjudge her,

But I hear whispers
falling off her tongue
dusting over mine
and I swallow them

they are but metaphors
bittersweet in my mouth
as we lay in my house
’cause it’s my fucking house…

Should I step out tonight?
I seek an adventure
and the girl that I love
is seeking only pleasure
Should I follow my heart
they’ll lead me to a little thing
they call dextromethorphan