Bruh

you can take my breath

but the bruh stays

lips slapping spice

of unknown bulk

face curry-blushed

from its blandness

my dad’s face caved

sour into his nose

when he heard it

the bruh cliff-hanging

on his beard

I think he tries to pray the white out of me

Town and Country now

a sermon bench for

290 west lectures

where D & D

is a cult following

if  that’s the case

my dungeon master got me hypnotized

rolling d20s is life in a quick toss

my new friend group is wild

they got bruh in their structure

fingers type in the group chat

with the single syllable

smash

we duke it out in basements and

Ike’s aether always pops out our croaking throats

bruh

sometimes I want to falcon-punch life in the face

cause I can never find the rhythm

to lift my hand

place it on her waist

and hip the yuck out me

need to leave my house

can’t look at any direction without muttering

bruh

this word

should not be something I want

something that never leaves

the tongue of my brain

but I love the way it punches my chest

just wish it would punch me harder