Oh,

I see.

PMS.

I must have lost track of time.

So I might not be losing my mind.

But then I look at the evidence

And wonder.

Living in a city

Where you have no friends

To speak of.

Your first boyfriend

(The first lover,

The one you were with for five years)

Unfriending you on Facebook

Because you expressed surprise

At his change of status.

Your ex-roommate’s hate.

Men whose interest

Is inversely proportional

To yours.

A woman who treats you like a horse

(Minus the petting).

Being an artist

Means pissing everybody off

And dying alone.