my new shoes.

my new shoes.
by rory byrnes
meet new people, go to parties, do dishes.
pour my coffee, take a shower, read newspaper.
go to work, come home.
rule#1: distract yourself.
dress in clean clothes everyday.
don’t worry about your stomach or
the thought of getting a double chin.
it’s the inside that counts.
rule#2: you are beautiful.
breathe in and out slowly, count to four repeatedly, stare at the wall.
play with cat, inhale cigarette.
most important rule#3: smoke more weed.
i don’t need anti-convulsants.
i don’t need pills.
i don’t need medication.
give me you.

0 thoughts on “my new shoes.

  1. I love everything about this poem except for the very last line. It, to me, takes a poem that shuttles a constant, propulsive mood and suddenly wrenches it into something it hadn’t been up until that point. But that’s just me, and a matter of preference at that. I liked the read. I wish I could smoke more weed, but I had to quit when I turned 30 and it started provoking panic attacks.
    The first stanza is particularly well-done.

  2. depakote? because i was on that for a long time for both my moods&seizures; i know they help out with both. i’ve never been on anything for my eating disorders but i heard prozac does the trick-that’s the only one i know of

  3. i don’t know. I’d have to agree. now looking at it, the last line doesn’t really make any sense to have there. thanks for pointing that out. i guess i was just trying to get the point across that i don’t need anything but a good man and a good bag.

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