to Be 24 & Write Bad Poetry

to be young
thoughts racing
pounding
pulsating
in the brain
to be 24 and write poetry
about bad woman
with no hearts
to be 24 and write poetry
about lack of connections
loneliness
heartache
and all that other
deprived shit
that we are living
to be 24
and want
the world
in our palms
only to crush it
and blow the bits and debris
towards god
and say,
"look what i did"
to feel weak
feeble
and without hope
the future is dead
past is nothing but
bridges made of straws
that collapsed
and killed every citizen
these days
will kill you slowly
to weed out the weak
the stranded
the death
to be 24
and hold onto everything
in fear that it might
dissipate
at any second
so you place worth
on everything
every movement
every breath
every word
means something
if not anything
and you take it
manipulate it
place it inside your chest
and hope
nothing but hope
that one day
these dead eyed
will grow strong
these heartless
will grow hearts
and we are nothing
but tin men
with squeaky joints
looking for the oil
to lubricate us
define us
empower us
and love us