Office Supplies
Sometimes I want to wipe out my memory
like a disc;
wite out my tongue and just forget
that I have too many bills and forged relationships
to get off that easy.
Sometimes I wish I could staple my mouth shut
and shred my fingers
when I feel like reaching for the keyboard
like a catholic confessional or bottle of painkillers
I can’t even count on for sleep.
I want a backspace button
for the dumb shit I say when I am hurt.
I want to install a censor like a v-chip
so no one would ever know.
I want not to care about the careless words
you put in e-mails and post in your profile
like there is a recycle bin I can forward my heart to
when it runs out of storage for unrequited love.
That happened again this morning
but, it is a Sunday;
there is no one to file a complaint with
or to place my order for more space.
So, I am composing my reply in papercuts.
Forgive me if I cannot answer your message today,
I only have two hands.
