I Told Myself I Would Never Write a Funny Poem

My “it’s 2:13 am and I’m trying to

Google information about my upcoming surgery

but all I can find are old forum posts

about how the procedure significantly

increased the ease of fisting” poem.

My “I showed up to the workshop

twenty minutes late

and all I heard was something about

turning children into chili” poem

My “the best Christmas gift I ever received

was a pillow with 14 year old Josh Peck’s

dorky face repeated all over it” poem.

My “I still can’t eat Fruit Loops

because one time, as a small child

I had a nightmare about getting

my eyes gauged out by a toucan” poem

My “shuttlecock” poem.

My “being immunocompromised

in the middle of a quarantine

means I’m so goddamn lonely

that the other day,

I googled the distance between me

and someone else from my state

that I met online that same day,

and decided without knowing

a damn thing about them

that a 3.5 hour drive would be difficult

but if we loved each other enough

we could make the relationship work.” poem

My “eating three quesadillas

at my friend’s mom’s house

because nobody knew how to tell her

vegans don’t eat cheese” poem

My “shitting my BRAINS OUT

after eating three quesadillas

at my friend’s mom’s house

because nobody knew how to tell her

vegans don’t eat cheese” poem

My “I started hitting the woah to make fun

of people who hit the woah

and now I cannot stop hitting the woah” poem.

My “I played Sims for five straight hours this morning

because it felt slightly more productive

staring at a computer-generated fantasy of my life

than actually living” poem

My “roommate who wouldn’t stop masturbating

so violently we could hear him downstairs” poem

My “sweaty, teenage foreplay

in a Hot Topic fitting room

with a girl I met on VampireFreaks.com” poem

My “There is a good chance

I accidentally gave my favorite drag queen

food poisoning and sent her

to the emergency room” poem.

My “please for the love of God

keep your fists away from me” poem.

My “being deadnamed after a douche” poem.

My “no, really, I mean a LITERAL douche.

Not just a shitty person” poem.

My “finding a packet of condoms

in great-grandma’s belongings” poem.

My “rolling a joint with my grandfather

on Easter morning and

telling each other

not to tell my mother” poem.

My “a few weeks ago I was dared to fit the line:

The boy cried you a sweater of tears,

and you killed him

from Spongebob into a poem

- so here it fuckin’ is” poem.

My “telling Mackenzie

we should get simultaneously admitted

to a mental hospital as a little vacation” poem

My “my friend Daniel once spent an entire night

borrowing all our phones

so, he could take a picture of his balls

and set it as our lock screens...

yeah, he’s dead now” poem.

(that last joke is why I belong in a mental hospital)

My “One time,

I got my ass grabbed accidentally

by a Disney Channel star

and the camera person did not wait

long enough to take our photo afterwards” poem

My “One time,

I went on a date with a completely different

Disney Channel star,

assuming we were both queer men because

... Disney Channel star....

and found myself sitting through

a four-hour sermon.

Over coffee I had to pay for.” Poem

My “I don’t even fucking like coffee,

I just wanted to maybe, someday

meet Miley Cyrus” poem.

My “I was the first person to pre-order my own book

because I was afraid nobody else would do it” poem

(swear to god, that’s not a promo)

My “After ending my four-year relationship

I invited my hot friend whom I

was not-so-secretly in love with

to a hotel

hoping for cuddles and a smoke session,

expecting regrettable break-up sex,

and all I got was this crappy T-shirt I brought from home

and a TV that only played Supernanny reruns” poem

My “no, that’s not a birthmark on my ass,

it’s a scar

from when I got bitten by a goose

trying to impress a pretty girl” poem.

My “kiss my ass, Neil,

berries are amazing” poem.

My “going skinny dipping at a high school sleepover

and being asked the next morning

why the hot tub smells like SeaWorld” poem.

My “my aunt used to invite Mormons over

to her house to do drugs and play video games

and one time I am fairly sure I

saw one of them snort coke out of a Bible” poem.

My “seriously,

I don’t think I can ever

give fist bumps again” poem.