i told him to write poetry on my arms (poetry)

sharpie pen licking at my
skin he drunkenly scrawled
“I woke up”, then
the rest dissolving unintelligible, red chaotic loops
of bright incoherent imprint, unfinished and
he throws the marker down in frustration
“I can’t do it like this,” he slurs

how do i tell him
i think he got it exactly right

sometimes all life is
is waking up, even when
the rest is a mess

• frustration

• dissolving unintelligible
• exactly right
• the rest is a mess