So lost am I in my many books…
Where questions have concrete answers;
Where not everyone’s a crook,
And you tell both the hero and the villain at a single look.
Literature has me on its hook,
‘Cause reality pales in comparison.

Real people aren’t as witty,
The women aren’t pretty; the men aren’t handsome,
Here, it’s all about money and we’re all held ransom
To cultural greed unless sickeningly naive
Or willing to self – deceive.

So what’s the plan, son?
No reason why, so why try?
Maybe that’s why so many buy guns.

The real world is lacking.
So my paper escape and leather bound ideal I’m stacking.
Classics and fiction,
History and religion,
Make a decision.
If it’s written,
It’s better than here.
So maybe the answer’s in the question
And I haven’t yet read the right lesson.

So what’s the plan, son?
No reason why, so why try?
Maybe that’s why so many buy guns.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
Isn’t it shame,
That the world isn’t as well thought out
As any of the millions of novels lying about?
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Let’s write a tragic ending,
So we can stop pretending
The finish isn’t obvious and we’re not
Just comedic relief in a plot hole.

Jessie Gutierrez

Author’s note: Ew. Ha I almost didn’t want to post this ’cause it feels grossly dark. I wrote this awhile back and don’t remember what terribly unfair cosmic joke inspired it, but doodling that gun made me kind of uncomfortable and I’m still not sure this is share-worthy.