"ive learned i dont like things up and down"

the poem is about forced/artificial creativity.

i’m out of confession greed,
i’m tired of prewritten sounds
singsong sonnets,
delusional lyrics in clouds,
cliché confessions
on killing yourself.

i still love writing

i just crave something harsh and real.

so i ask “profound” questions
on a beat-inspired binge
an anti-poem poet
holding a mischievous event
to torment my neighbor, Tom.

he has a green hat,
and he always speaks

in accidental, crushing prose.

speaking in reflections.

wisdom by definition.
so he's the star of the show.

and our winning question is?

    "about your first love."

his face furled in
regret, in thought,
wisdom
his life he forgot.

his eyebrows, lips... pursed.
then came his answer...

"intensity, insanity,

 the wish to never go home.
 how it burns out,
 love seems different,
 how you get old.

 sentences get longer.
 there's love in silence.
 that first love is louder.

 we rush, down and up
 a lesson that ends in quiet.

 you'll think about it,
 crumbling, cursing,
 am i missing out?
 that past noise
 don't let it ruin your silence."

 "that wasn’t very good, Tom.
  i just wanted to know her name,
  and what the hell’s 'down and up?'"

 "things are never just up and down."

 "just go home, Tom."

Author's Note

this is closer to an experiment or a placeholder. still thought out, have fun