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November 26, 2014 | Poetry

2 Poems

Chuck Young

2 Poems photo

you are a holiday routine

i dreamt shirt collars and close hands
i woke up in the bark of a dog
i soaked in a bath of fog and breath
i scrubbed myself with roasted marshmallow
i dressed up as halloween for you
i ate goosebumps sunny side up
i drove church bells on highways
i paid gingerbread tolls
i walked onto an elevator filled with balloons
i stared into a dryer sheet
i tapped my fingers on a glacier
i drank barbecue coal
i sat at you with my family and said grace
i watched a candle burn inside a jello mold
i rubbed my motel hands
i kissed at midnight mass on the eve of you
i knocked up a magnolia tree
i smoked pool filters
i fell asleep inside a cat’s purr
i dreamt shirt collars and close hands
i woke up in the bark of a dog
i soaked in a bath of fog and breath
i scrubbed myself with roasted marshmallow
i dressed up as halloween for you
i ate goosebumps sunny side up
i drove church bells on highways
i paid gingerbread tolls
i walked onto an elevator filled with balloons
i stared into a dryer sheet
i tapped my fingers on a glacier
i drank barbecue coal
i sat at you with my family and said grace
i watched a candle burn inside a jello mold
i rubbed my motel hands
i kissed at midnight mass on the eve of you
i knocked up a magnolia tree
i smoked pool filters
i fell asleep inside a cat’s purr
i dreamt shirt collars and close hands

 

dating profile

headline: dad for rent: slightly used
name: chuck young
rap name: ja definitely feel
age: i just injured my neck trying to pop a zit.
weight: feed a cold, starve a fever, masturbate a hangover.
height: i like it when you can see a muppet’s full body.
sex: do they make porn where someone is just getting ready for like their cousin’s wedding and justin timberlake music is in the background? also has anyone made a supercut of just a bunch of snl credits where people are just on stage congratulating and hugging each other? and also and also, “i’m supposed to be masturbating but…” is a great way to start any sentence and i learned that from a facebook friend.
sexual orientation: reggae
spiritual aesthetic: drunk mrs. doubtfire 
religious views: WebMD, what does it mean when there’s stool in your blood? *opens one hundred fortune cookies* WebMD, can you get prostate cancer from playing air guitar super hard on your bunched up testicles while driving with the windows down the first really hot day of summer? *shakes magic 8-ball vigorously* WebMD, can you die from holding in a shit for too long? *rubs genie lamp*
mood ring color: champagne
style/fashion: after almost a decade, i looked down and noticed the shoes i was wearing weren’t mine and now everything i do is a fuck you to my feet.
current mood: that i'm-not-happy-with-the-content-i-generated-online-today malaise
dream job: the ups guy that wears too much cologne and talks to his boo on the phone while taking a shit with the lights off.
hobbies: in my spare time i comment on all your profile pics but then immediately delete them and i also maintain a twitter account that just lists what movie i’m watching, what i’m eating while watching it, how much alcohol i’m drinking while watching it and what parts of it i’m crying at.
movies: the movie her except the guy thinks he’s talking to his dead best friend or the adult version of the daughter he had that died when she was young. and one time i took the buzzfeed what mud character are you, ate half a vegan hash cookie, and turnt out i was the boat the whole fucking time.
music: you ever just feel super down for no real reason? like, things are going well. everything seems to be in its right place. but, you’re still just a fucking draaag? you ever just straight up realize that you really miss the thong song? or maybe just sisqo himself?
books: every ghost story is a love story or an advice column that is just a bunch of different responses to “lol wut?”
tv shows: you can tell how sad someone truly is by how hard they laugh at sitcoms
art: if you're flirting with strangers on the internet and then not somehow making art out of it, you're straightup doing it all fucking wrong. it's 2014, ya jagaloon.
food: breakfast: a box of white zin but without all of that pesky cardboard so that i'm just holding a globular pouch-sack up kind of high and drinking from the spigot
lunch: something cooked by a lightbulb where i just want the cashier to call me "honey”
dinner: your ghost, an elusive hair in my mouth
drinks: drink a dick, dude, and eat my fuck.
friends: i like knowing people that do things even if i don't actually know them and even if they're not really doing things.
holiday: kiss me i’m iris by the goo goo dolls.
drugs: trying to get rastafarian listed on my medical marijuana card. every ting irie!? more like every ting diarrhie.
go-to pick-up line: let’s take our collective emotional pain out on each other’s genitals.

 

image: Tara Wray


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