Sometimes I think typewriters
Should come back in style.
Because nothing sounds as beautifully bada**
as someone aggressively typing on a typewriter.
The clicking alone could sooth any irate beast.
But then again,
The keys do get stuck a lot
When you type too quickly
And you might get gobbled up by the monster
While trying to fix it.

And sometimes I want to wear
Big sweaters with tight pants
Possibly floral prints and jean jackets.
My hair in loose curly waves.
But other times I wanna wear
Black and jeans
Definitely an old pair of chucks, leather jackets.
My hair straight-sharp like knives.

I am fueled by rage and caffeine
By four hours of sleep a night and grilled cheese.
I am fueled by bad movies and songs that sound happy,
But when you really listen—deeply listen—
They could bring you to tears.

Sometimes I need to take a break
Take a breather
Take a step back
Because my voice gets sore from all my silence
And my jaw is tense from bottling up my inner monologue.
Because if I didn’t,
You better believe
I would’ve won that “Most Sarcastic Senior Superlative”
And you better believe
There would be about three times as many people that hate me.

And I’ve been trying to work out what my point is.
But then I realized that poems aren’t pencils
They don’t need a point.
People wander around a lot
Wondering what they’re all about
What it all means
Why they were brought into this world.
And poems can be like that too.
A little shaky, a little unsure.
Lovely all the same.

But, if there had to be a point,
It would be the one on the tip of my pen.
Because if I wrote this poem next week,
It might be different.
I am in constant motion;
Like the pen across the page.
Eternally flickering;
Like the cursor on the screen.
Writing a mixture of nonsense and fact,
Stirring well and baking at 375° for two hours.
Searching for a point.
While the universe is constantly expanding
And giving me this absurd notion that maybe,
For a moment,
I was the center of it.
Always leaving my point just out of my grasp.
So maybe that’s the point,
That unlike a pencil,
I don’t need one to write.