poems about

warcraft

by c.w. cheng
ip ip man man
cool story bro
ip man, ip man
the tortoise
it girl
classroom proficiency
PPPPPP
castle story
KKBKKBKBB
kewpie collie
brose
prosthetic limb
baboo
american borer story
thinking man
the terror
procrastitorium
broken
little bug
heckle
bitchman
outsider
do you smoke?
i do not need this
serious poem
★★★★★
trashman
life in traffic
vape poem
queen of the youth
randomfrankp
dmdmdm
a cry for help
phil and dan have a serious philosophical discussion
oh my god
here we go again
ip ip man man

i kid, i kid
perhaps a tiger would recoil from being hit
don’t quit it, just make it fit
but don’t throw a fit though

i’m sure of it, i’m sure of it

the sky is the place where all things go to die
and then come back
as deadly neuroviruses

have another relapse

it’ll ruin your weekend
have another drink
and i’ll forget where the hallway ends, it takes a young boy to grab the bends

another one, and another one,

(but you still ain’t done shit about the other one)
and the ip man rides along
on a runaway bull

along the tides of time

lives a happy nuclear family
sorry, i mean
fuck your heteronormative worldview on love

a beautiful thing, i’m a beautiful thing

the ip man, sits on the least comfortable seat on the school bus
to the sun
to the sun
cool story bro

“I’ll wake up tomorrow, and I’ll be less stupid than I was yesterday.”

The glow of my iPhone engulfs the top of my head, as the rest of my body stays
cozy beneath the sheets.
One eye peeking out from the covers, I think to myself,
“I don’t need to know what Trump said. I’ll never need to know. None of this will
help me in any way.”

Tossing and turning, my phone disappears into the maze-like contortions created
by layers of blankets.
Earbuds, wrapped around my body, about to be found broken and coiled the next
morning.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be less stupid than I was when I fell asleep yesterday.”

A dream within a dream; the prime moment for my subconscious to be silently

suppressing the experiences of yesterday.
Within a dream, within a dream.
It’s hazy. All of it.

And I can’t stand up, at 7:30.

The daylight struggles to penetrate through, first my blinds, then my eyelids.
The smell of iron is in the air.
ip man, ip man

the old boy is given a substantial amount of time to deliver the first strike,
but he doesn’t
perhaps he did not have enough to drink that morning

the old boy missed the bus, by a fraction of a quarter of a minute

he ran,
but he still missed it

the old boy remembers catching toads by the river

at the age of six
the old boy learns about death

the old boy’s internet history, is nothing to be admired

all i have left, is a primed memory
of the old boy’s presence, on top of me, i’ll forget

ip man, ip man,
i’m sure god has some sort of master plan
for the old boy, gone too soon

old boy, old boy, drink your pain away,

mom and dad will buy you new sandals,
once your old ones wear out, over a period of time long enough to successfully
raise a small cow

and old boy, please please remember

me, and everything i’ve said to you
you won’t be a boy for much longer, old boy
the tortoise

i was born to run,

like a leaf falling slowly to the ground,
i am pulled by the same mysterious forces
that caused this in the first place

slow as this may be,

all things begin and end in the same way,
at a constant rate, in the same place,
i am a man, i must admit, that i am only a man

it girl

stay calm and collected,

the it girl, glides through a crowd, punches her way through barriers,
the sun and the stars prove little a challenge for her mighty abilities

staying calm and collected,

the it girl, runs away from her third challenge today
tired, the it girl rests, beside an old oak tree,
towering over the city, the it girl reminisces

one day, we will be free

free to travel to any lands we choose, free from the cage that is the ego, the it girl
struggles
and struggles, and eventually permits
the decay of it
girl, for a few months you were all that i cared about
and for a few years, your memory will linger
but your thought is no longer, it
for me, there is nothing else replacing
replacing, slowly flickering away, like dust, like sand,

the stars are no match, for the sparking reflection of streetlights on your eyes
oh beautiful it girl,

am i a man? or am i dressed up as something else, this i do not know

i think therefore i am, but i think of nothing important, therefore i am,
nothing important, a blip

the it girl forgives,

and is helpful,
on occasions, when i break out of my shell

collect the pieces,

move on towards
a path never travelled, built by teenagers back in the 70s,

forgets me, it girl, stays calm, collected, freedom combined with confidence
paints a pretty picture of a girl you want to become
you are not it, it girl, i cry
i cry, for i am not a part, of it

of you, forever and ever, i cry

for you, are not it girl, not yet, i’ll cry
for you are more it than you know, girl
i could tell you this, but i would feel embarrassed, for it
for things, are more complicated than they seem, in the echo chamber of the lonely
mind,

nothing seems clear to me anymore, it girl

calm and collected, no more, chaotic, like a rogue wave hitting the beach where we
once sat,
you and i, it no more,
calls me closer, and further away, it, forever and ever
classroom proficiency

light is shining through gaps in crimson coloured leaves, in this one moment
i feel if i should have become a painter

summer turns to autumn back to summer again, i’d imagine

i could have done things differently

multitudes of chains of quests, many i quit too soon, too soon

to realize what the benefits may have been

no one to blame but the soul inside my skull, poisoned my synapses

day after day, laying waste

to finite potential, cheers, to naive untruths

your proficiency is none, i cannot attack that target

PPPPPP

a beautiful morning to check e-mails

thump thumping in my chest, i angrily reply
as a side effect of stress

ra-ta-ta-tatting, past my point of view

out into the distance
zooming, i digress

the grass grows greener on sunny days,

unlike today, few i have ever seen
like an unearthed memory, holding a dull sheen

to it, i assume, associated negative feelings

none present today, a day to hit
send send send send send send
and i’ll PPPPPP,
until no one see see see see see see’s
the darkness in mimimimimimi

my greatest fear, are clouds in early noon

the sun leaves home, refracting light in my room
reminds me of my day

i hope, full of pleasant memories,

too lost to do good,
wastes all of my energy,

running away away running

small children in a field
return to a place so familiar that we cannot sit tight

exciting exciting
a glimmer of hope,
returns to me in e-mail, sending, sending, sent

ascending my dear child,

to the edge of the earth
a beautiful mourning, feeling lost in the womb

i’ll cry cry cry cry out

and kick kick and scream
no one will hear me, alone in my room

close close and then open the door

a clear beam of light
phone ringing, birds singing,

a feeling of bliss,
to end off my morning
a lingering cough, and the smell of cold coffee
castle story

floating in ethereal space

order pint of downtownflooring.ca
get up off my case, mistakes were made
but never livid, fair ever maiden
made jade bead bracelets
loved once, once taken
off bridges, trees enlivened
retired you, fair maiden
down the twilight yonder
was once a land of wealth and wonder
compound interesting what it means to be alive
it totalled $36.16, plus $10.85

KKBKKBKBB

bright colours strain my eyes, eyes

red, wrong strains took daily
medicine so soothes the soul
in order for me to sleep soon softly

calm light draws me into, a

room glowing talent sings,
softly fades, my forehead numbing
harsh blue light too late it seems

night running, running, walking, stops

plants noid beside the foreground,
sweat beading four cups inwards,
expelled outwards, smelling putrid

heat rise above the dancers,

glued eyes about the drifters,
moved solely by a rhythm,
produced why, who knows otherwise
kewpie collie

high fashion models, eager to eat collard greens

with left-wing theorists embarked, enraged the fashion world

high collar girl flew high above clouds, few knew her name though
through thick billowed smoke, threw crowds cotton candy

kids cry out for mothers in the thick kewpie collie

clandestinely heart clogging, groupthinking the grotesque

cunt-coloured football fields, thought through felt-lined fevers

protect our pretty voices, farther than thought possible

many many hours, before the morning sun rises

runs right round reactions, sit tight tall sweetly collie
brose

familiar prose sounds good to the ear

hence, i’ve subscribed the same channels for how many years
in silence, watching brothers green
utilized by soft and grey, distant machines

ushered in by a king, the king of all kings

brings halt to a movement, minute pinhole in smooth tent fabric
rips notebooks to shreds dreams of fanboys who,
shedding coats without collars for high collar jobs

sieve through the prime numbers, finding numb simple solace

among company of bros, blight familiar prose in the brains
of monkeys trained solely in code, for the cold coming months
await winter solstice, the catalyst causes all the trains to run on time

an adverse efficiency, at least the sense thereof

that which uproots the system, saved solely by none
their familiar prose, pulling sheets over faces
casts a warm sterile glow, stave off sleep for no reasons

mind mastered over men, a magician sets forth

among madness fostered thought through strange symbols in the sand
mad magic men gathered many molehill shovels,
seeking secrets among stars, as modern slaves still do
prosthetic limb

it’s absurd that nearly two thirds of toronto subway stations are not wheelchair
accessible
allowing visibility to the disabled, is very important i believe

and who cares about the homeless? but me, sometimes

i feel sorry, i believe, in small amounts of change

i wish there was a way, to stop cold weather coming

a hindrance to my lengthy commute, i feel like

the disabled will face many challenges on election day, and i’m batting an eye
full of neglect, it seems, the news cycle prods onwards to

the decay of the soul, as foretold by philosophers long past would hate
full speech on the internet, intertwining with woven DNA passed from generation
to

generate wishful thinking, the national post feels diseased somehow, while
a man of dubious origin parks his car in the handicapped spot

the odd one out, gets cut the deepest,

my throat hurts, so i need to buy both Nyquils

i regret my greediness, but where else can you get pills for this cheap
where else can you do anything here, within 10 minutes walking distance?
brose

familiar prose sounds good to the ear

hence, i’ve subscribed the same channels for how many years
in silence, watching brothers green
utilized by soft and grey, distant machines

ushered in by a king, the king of all kings

brings halt to a movement, minute pinhole in smooth tent fabric
rips notebooks to shreds dreams of fanboys who,
shedding coats without collars for high collar jobs

sieve through the prime numbers, finding numb simple solace

among company of bros, blight familiar prose in the brains
of monkeys trained solely in code, for the cold coming months
await winter solstice, the catalyst causes all the trains to run on time

an adverse efficiency, at least the sense thereof

that which uproots the system, saved solely by none
their familiar prose, pulling sheets over faces
casts a warm sterile glow, stave off sleep for no reasons

mind mastered over men, a magician sets forth

among madness fostered thought through strange symbols in the sand
mad magic men gathered many molehill shovels,
seeking secrets among stars, as modern slaves still do
prosthetic limb

it’s absurd that nearly two thirds of toronto subway stations are not wheelchair
accessible
allowing visibility to the disabled, is very important i believe

and who cares about the homeless? but me, sometimes

i feel sorry, i believe, in small amounts of change

i wish there was a way, to stop cold weather coming

a hinderance to my lengthy commute, i feel like

the disabled will face many challenges on election day, and i’m batting an eye
full of neglect, it seems, the news cycle prods onwards to

the decay of the soul, as foretold by philosophers long past would hate
full speech on the internet, intertwining with woven DNA passed from generation
to

generate wishful thinking, the national post feels diseased somehow, while
a man of dubious origin parks his car in the handicapped spot

the odd one out, gets cut the deepest,

my throat hurts, so i need to buy both Nyquils

i regret my greediness, but where else can you get pills for this cheap
where else can you do anything here, within 10 minutes walking distance?
baboo

a comet streaks across the sky in the blink of an eye

flashing, here for a moment but gone in a blink’s fraction
it feels like time stops until you catch yourself feeling unlike a moment ago
then time continues as your chemicals fade away
replaced by nuanced motions repeating, soon pleasure diminishes
the shooting star’s trail fades softly to black again

the harsh buzzing of aluminium on hardwood extends my body beyond its reaches
pulls back the cloak of time, information is abundant and obtainable now
within a blink, a fissure opens in the sky, my blood pressure rises
and sinks back again, as i fall back into myself

american borer story

i try and try it seems, to pick myself up

but it can be so hard sometimes, i feel
unjustified through my actions, i feel as if
i am not in control of my actions

going on, it feels like i shouldn’t, that i should

stop, slow down, think things through a bit instead of just
not thinking, moving forward, i’ll be too scared to
do anything, anything it all, i’ll think it but just won’t do it

how can other people be so? strong, able, productive, while i am just
the waste of space, i want however to become
better than i am, better than i was a year ago, i will become
the king of america, and the world will be my subject

i find it really anxiety inducing that life has no pause button

why didn’t god, just program one in
like death, disease, depression, and what else
why didn’t god just program one in
thinking man

my mother gave me hot water

for me to make green tea
to sooth my aching throat
to smooth out my body

just enough to get the kinks

and to keep my mind awake
enough to keep me thinking
just don’t stay up too late

the terror

you haven’t lived life until you’ve contemplated suicide inside your dorm room,
but afterwards i still felt nothing at all

perhaps my ego is frail, for i am naturally weak:

i’ll stop talking to you two months ago

the thing that i remember best is being constantly anxious of being seen
i was safe if i was hidden, there’s no shame in that

a case of western misfitism, i’ll research my dispositions online

i see now that i tried to replace the soul i threw away’
procrastitorium

i have a tiny machine on my desk whose job is to shit liberal platitudes down my
virgin throat
and sometimes i believe her, but sometimes i don’t

i don’t know what to believe sometimes, someone is hopeful somewhere hopefully

more than i, who within a very tiny margin of error i emerged from my mother’s
womb not as a stillborn child

bored child i was, however blissful, my memory fails me and i cannot be pieced
together by such thoughts
like a wandering son, opportunities unexamined led me into the confines of a
personal masturbatorium

the world is a cage with an open door, onlookers will whisper screams into your
face, all you can do is petition for a facebook dislike button
save the world, save the fucking world i mean, what is the matter with the world

i’m very bored sometimes, and i’m very bitter

very fickle am i
broken

i’m turning twenty worryingly soon

i digress, i should not have been so rude to you last year
the same miscalculations, age is just a number determined by the stars
the uniqueness of it all blinds me momentarily, and i want to lie down without you
under this roof is everything i’ll need to survive the next twenty years or so,
a bottle of whiskey, i wonder what i’ll be doing at age fifty
i’m really worried, will i be a man or woman or something in between?
will i have a low paying job? i mean probably
looking at how things are going, the hourglass has gone empty, we need to buy
new sand
and throw away those goals, those goals will drive us nowhere
i’ll need to learn new accents, to make it in the job world
the lonely lonely life of a dedicated worker
and i hate investing banking, that was my roommate’s goal
to become an investment banker, unreasonably fuck him
i’ll channel out my anger, in inappropriate ways, taking it all out on myself
some days
very soon i’ll be unbroken, when i turn twenty seven i’ll disconnect the cables
that link across the ocean, from my tv to yours
you’ll see an accomplished salesman, who doesn’t pay more taxes than the rest of
the laymen
in laymen’s terms i’m working to make my mommy happy
she’ll look down on me from heaven, when i turn sixty seven
i’ll hope that i’ll be happy, i mean i’ll be happy probably
i mean the best and only well, i’m sorry for my anger
the wrong time and the wrong place to be, is here beside me
i’ll take it on my schoolwork, i’m proud of some old schoolwork
it made me very happy, in the darkness of my dorm room
i cried at you in anger, but i was yelling through you, at the empty wall behind you
i lost it in that moment, i tied a noose around you
my accent is unchanging, i wish that i could change it
i’ll hold your body closely, if only i could find job leads
that’s all i really want these days, is something to hold on to
nothing can’t be deleted, that’s a problem with my conscience
i can’t withstand my payments, i’m failing under pressure, like my professors
warned me
not to do
and even though i’m failing, i’m really happy for you
at least one of us is happy, anyhow
on days when i’m forgotten, i’m thinking softly of you, i’m thinking kindly of you
all the best, little girl
i guess you’ll be a doctor, a rich accomplished doctor
with an elusive licence to save lives
you tried your best to save me but i was hiding behind me
behind my open curtain was a doll, in which i cried
outside of that disgusting hall, i threw it in the laundry
looking back i was mistaken, it’s my fault, in the end
i’ll look back on an accomplished life time, i swear i tried my hardest
at least appearing on the surface, of my skull
was a mark, higher than what i aimed for, higher than the apes could build
higher than i was that month, continuously
the job market was flooded, i know i cannot blame you
for all of my shortcomings, in the end, i stayed numb

little bug

a little bug and a gentle hand

smoke from sweet leaves in the sand
scream out now but feel bad about it later
at least you have your friends, family, and some paper
heckle

shouting at the top of my lungs

on the internet, at nothing in particular

i don’t think anybody listens? i don’t really need anybody to listen

in this metal box, magnetic waves refracting against the surface

of your skin so soft, entering my brain cells, mutating my brain cells

i’ll have no more brain cells, blame you, why don’t i

a million, billion things i’d rather do then spend time with you
shouldn’t have chosen to spend that time with you, i shouldn’t have done that

in hindsight, it was a bad move

learning experience? maybe, an experience not worth the entrance fee

of $100,000,000, space trash, general trash everywhere

but i’m especially concerned about space trash

satellite beams and the sort, in this metal box reflecting

this can’t be healthy, nothing about this can be healthy at all
bitchman

stress stress stress won’t make you money ever, man

get up off my case, man
get out of my lane, man

bitchman spilt regular coffee on the leather seat of his lexus

i’ll laugh at the bitchman
get up off my case, man

spilt milk is nothing to cry over dude

i’ve got a half empty glass of soy milk right here, it’s nothing to call home about
the bitchy man will do it anyways, i think

wasting all of your cash cash cash cash on monthly prepayments on your cell
phone bill
is nothing to bitch home about, bitchman
i mean we all do it
outsider

you dig, pony?

i, ah-a, i, i, i
do you sometimes say things that you don’t mean? i hope

i’ll forget, and forget forgetting

mistakes made back in 8th grade
i’d do-d-do them all over

all over, all over, all over again

looping-da-loop-da-looping, go around and around
again, about the pony, about

i dream sometimes, i dream about forgetting

it is, it is, a farce it is
a varsity football team the school didn’t have, a dream it is

and i, and i, and i and you

you and i, and i and you
who could have ever known? i could have

i’ll get married, get married and have a baby

name it pony,
no name but pony

i dig, i dig, i dig, i dig

deeper and deeper i go, i go
repeating, repeating, the motions forever

one day i’ll know it’s all for naught

for now, fear not,
it’s not, it’s not

my mother told me, i should not worry

i trust my mother, my mother, i trust
i love her dearly, i dig a pony
do you smoke?

an acquaintance asked me today

“no i don’t, i’m trying to quit”

“oh ok”
i walked away, and that i was it
i’m trying to quit, and that is it

wish me luck, myself and i

a kind acquaintance group, but a sight outside of classrooms
brings chills to my spine, grab a quick smoke why don’t you?

a feeling to place in the hole in your head

sends a buzz up my neck,
the top of my head buzzing

i’ve no one to talk to

but a buzz in my head
good enough, i’d say, for now, good enough
and that was today
and it’s been one week

either i’m weak, or i’m strong, i can’t be nothing in between

in between classes, i’ll be nothing
i’ll be nothing by myself
as time slows down, then speeds up for no reason
i do not need this

i do not need this

i just need warmth
and light
and maybe some bleach
i’m running out
of time

a knock on the door

i close my eyes
my ears
i do not need this
i do not need this

a kick on the door

i clench my teeth
my face
why is everyone in here
what do you even care about

a pain in my chest
i think i’m in love
again
i do not need this
just leave me alone
my friend

does it smell like weed

i’ve run of time
again
i’m losing my mind
i’m losing my soul
again

i don’t think i need this

i just need warmth
and rest
i don’t think i need this
i really don’t need this
serious poem

head filled with thoughts, drain them down the swamp

alien virgin boys, sharing bleak coherent noise
on the internet, alone, forgetful, forgetting

never mind an abstract thought, incoherent thought poem,

rating out of ten
rating out of twenty, in your father’s den, alone, forgetful, forgetting

not looking forward, forward to christmas at all

mindless repetition, what is the point you ask? there is no point,
sitting in a rancid bedroom, alone, forgetful, forgetting

and i’ll say “fuck!”, “fuck!”, “fuck!”, for i’ve no other words to say
i’ve forgotten, forgetful, forgetting, sorry you’d read this, i’m not
this is a serious poem, and you’re a serious poet, serious poetry, rating out of ten

★★★★★

soft and unstable, like white snow in layers only to melt the next morning
like a footprint in mud lasting all through the summer
like vomit on concrete leaves a stain all semester

hence why i avoid spicy foods in the hours pre-noon

on days to be careful that the bus leaves too soon
i’m wary, some days i wish i could pause,
and reflect on the meaning of “why’s anything at all”

soft and unstable, like this bad prose became

lame gaps in the rhyming, no
break is the same
“what’s the point of it all?”, even when pain subsides
this line serves no purpose at all

when i post this online, what will anon think?

will he like my writing? and give it a rating?
maybe .8 out of 10, will that make make me happy?
and wonder, i will, why wonder at all?
trashman

treat me like dirt, a toy in the sand

grounded my visions, more than any dubious man could
like cloudy vision, requires corrective lenses
a voice in my head says, “i wish i could”

trash man, trash man, come out of your trash can

join a mariachi band, stuffed full of trash man
you play even better than your granddad can, trashman

grounded here by purple pills and the weight of sand

try to fly, like a balloon boy can
i wish i wish, to grab his hand,
delicate and loving trashman, trashman

life in traffic

at a standstill i sit and wait for the tides to change

in sandy dunes, it happens forever, slowly
living everlasting lives
for a moment it feels eternal

in the search for love i’ll find an ebb

to my flow, not once interrupted by a red blooming rose
like traffic lights that shine through snow
dull it glows

i will believe in what i’ll believe, these thoughts will grow

outwards through my ears, a hair twitch and a pin drops
while eyebrows raise to clouds cascading fresh winter snow
dull it glows
vape poem

there’s gunk in the coils!

for whom the bell toils
there’s liquid on my wrist and in my lungs

there’s fluid in my eyes

and it comes to no surprise
and i’m vaping 50 dollars into smoke

lungs lungs are screaming, and journaled my dreaming

many pages not written, hastily so

i’ll do it tomorrow, dew on lawns freshly mowed

queen of the youth

her beauty clicks as a disturbance in the mind

tactile and smooth like bumps on her spine, draws me
back to the sounds of the south station

terrible baddies persuading the yutes

brings guns to the knife fight for youth, for you
can’t run and can’t hide, gun pointed at you
the queen of youth

smooth butter on bread, smells dankly once spread

with a knife upon freshly warmed toast
and man, what a nightmare, there’s butter in my hair
smells dank like the queen of the youths
randomfrankp

i wish i could fall in love,

but i’m scared i do not know how
i’m scared i’ll roll the dice wrong, i’m so scared i’ll cry for help

and i’d love to plant a garden

in a small backyard for two,
the sweet smell wafts slowly, sightly, like it would in a cartoon

and i’d cry for help from god

and he’d tell me to relax, for rain is coming down
i’d feel it on my back, hunched over digging
holes for flowers in my garden built for two
i’d pick flowers in a paper bag and mail them off to you

if you’re real please send me signs, like i stare at when i drive

up and down with no aim in sight
sometimes i feel deathly alone
it’s a feeling i feel deep down in my core, in the back of my head i know that
“something’s wrong. something’s very, very wrong.”

thoughts buried deep in holes in my garden built for two

dmdmdm

have i done enough?

to feel proud of what i’m doing
no, i haven’t

have i tried my best?

let my true colours shine?
like dull gossamer, my body
faintly glows in shades of purple

i wish i could understand, i just do

not have the means to

the task can be sometimes

large and unwieldy and my arms,
too sore, the key does not fit
and my breath is too short

have i done my daily share?

accomplish my daily task, tomorrow
a pot of coffee waits at an empty coffee table

the pitter patter rain and the christmas lights glow

across the street in early april
or was it late? i cannot read calendars, but i’ve kept one for quite a long time

we’re scared of the uncertain, variety shakes up life

like an elephant running, scared the romans off the battlefield
i am not a roman, a man, i am just

and kind sometimes, the virtue i strive and

the good life i must achieve
cannot be achieved from the places i am in
a cry for help

i’m humming in your ear

a cry for help
i’ll hold you near, my child

i’m telling you i need help

a major key ringing in the mind, my soul is a mess
i need help, man
in the key of a
i need help, man

a lie that i’ve lived for a year is about to crash

come crashing down, like my car almost did today
an asshole driver ruined my day
my child from the future is dying before i
am, not here, not anywhere, my lord

save my ass
mike pence is an adult baby
hunter-gatherer leader not well suited for the noise of the modern world
where did it go wrong?
where did we all go wrong?

i’m not feeling human right now

but what does human feel like anyway

man
i just need peace
phil and dan have a serious philosophical discussion

“dude. do you think that the universe still exists outside of this room?”, asked phil
“what the fuck? what does that even mean, dude?”, replied dan

“like, outside of this room. can we even be sure that anything really exists?”, phil
rebutted
“yes. just look outside.”

phil tried to look outside but there were no windows in the room
“where is the door, dan? this room has no windows.”, asked phil

“there are no windows, dan. i only pay 300 a month for rent.”
“oh”, said phil. “then where is the door?”

“there is no door either. you get what you pay for.”, replied dan
“then what the fuck. how do you even leave?”, asked phil

phil and dan thought about this question for exactly 15 minutes, until dan said:
“we’ve been here for a while, man. do you want to go get pizza? there’s a place in
scarborough that sells one big pizza with smaller slices of pizza as the topping.
let’s go get that pizza.”

“how do we leave, dan?”

oh my god

oh man, oh man
how’d you let it get to this point, man?
how’d you let it go so far, man?
gosh darn, man
oh my gosh

i hope you have a plan, man

to make amends, man
and fix the dents, man
oh gosh
there’s no time, oh my god

and man
next time don’t worry as much
don’t wonder as much
wander around, but don’t let yourself rush

because i love the journey, man; the sights and sounds

it’s such a thrill, man
and nothing compares to it
nothing at all, i think

(anyways, let’s get down to business)

consciousness in itself is a beautiful gift

here we go again

back at it again at krispy kreme

this time with enhanced HD vision, but the same old pair of glasses
drab and overdone, i think
you should get new ones soon

your head’s full of an empty sense of pride

at nothing in particular
and the ringing
it’s in the key of E now
about the author

c.w. cheng is a pseudonym

thank you for reading this collection of poems
i really, really tried