#I was worried I was gonna like ‘ruin’ somebody else’s ‘better’ poem

[e77y]

I only write poetry on the bus anymore

[kariachi]

And we’re going to try for another two episodes today, which’ll be the last season 4 ones I have access to in a language I know for a while. So after today we’ll probably be getting breaks of at least a week between liveblogs. But that’s something to worry about then, this is now, and we’re going for What Rhymes With Omnitrix.

There’s poetry in this episode, I love poetry. Ya know before I settled deep into fic I used to mostly do poetry? Anymore I only rarely do, but back in like the sixth, seventh grade? Poetry all over the place. Then I realized I could induce emotion better through narrative prose and dialogue and a true ficcer was born.

Anyway, is another Kevin episode of course, and Charm but who gives two shits about Charm, so let’s get into it! My son and poetry!

~~

They’re just dropping us right in with Charm, who has poetry very blatantly about Gwen and how she hates her. In public. Can’t fault the kid for confidence or dedication.

This girl and Kevin both need therapy, preferably in different cities because last time she and Kev were in the same space he looked this close to killing her and while that would be entertaining to watch, kinda hard to go to therapy when a pissed off tween is carving your bones into parts for his latest piece of tech. Because if anybody would tap into the necromantic arts purely as a fuck you to someone he’d already killed, it’s reboot!Kevin.

‘Ode to Hating Gwen So Much #16′ Charm, kiddo, you need therapy and a hobby. Have you considered felting? Maybe videogames? A couple hours of Terraria would do you good.

Polite people at the (presumably) Amateur Poetry Night.

Oh look, a Kevin. Of course any book you carry around is gonna be black, you aesthetic mess.

Also can I pause a moment here in appreciation for every bathroom we’ve seen so far I think appearing to be unisex? Very nice.

“Conning” and here is where I heave a sigh and my bloodpressure goes up a bit, because what she did to Kevin was not conning in any way, that was clearly and blatantly magical enslavement complete with chains, torture, and mindcontrol. You can’t just downplay that shit like this and expect me to go along with it, not when the sequel series already tended to pull that, especially with regards to Charmcaster doing that sorta shit. You do not get to blatantly show Kevin being forced to do things against his will, being tortured for fighting back, and then try to pass it off as him having been tricked into working with her. What the fuck is with this franchise with having Charm do horribly evil shit and then just waving it off?

At least Kevin still clearly hates her.

Charm trying to play like she’s actually gotten more powerful since they last saw each other and is not, ya know, powerless in front of somebody she literally tortured and who is bigger than her even without his shapechanging watch. At least she’s reacting appropriating even if Kevin isn’t. Laying it on kinda thick though for someone who just ruined her makeup with tears not three minutes ago.

Are these children both trying to outbluff each other? Oh that works. I can totally work with a Kevin who’s kinda scared of Charm after what she did, alongside a Charm that’s definitely scared of Kevin now that she’s powerless and has hurt him so bad. That is something I can enjoy. Not that Kevin does it particularly well, but he’s young yet and anyway he doesn’t need to bluff well to avoid trouble here, he just needs to fall for Charm’s bluff.

And lo, the classic ‘we bumped into each other and dropped our books, then each grabbed the wrong book when we walked away’ trope. Always a good one. I hope they realize they have the wrong books fast though, given they look nothing alike.

Definitely a unisex bathroom, nice.

Charm’s uncle gave her a magic amulet. I’ve seen people theorize this is referring to Hex, but I don’t think that makes sense given what we know of either of them so far so I’m not giving the reboot back those points.

Of course Slam Poetry Night attracts a Rath. Of course. I wondered how they were going to get Ben into this.

Max really needs to stop using slang from any decade. It’s just painful.

Gwen sees Kevin take the stage and just, “oh no”.

So, this is definitely where Kev realizes he has Charm’s book, he’d have to, it’s full of somebody else’s poetry.

Also can I just say 1) I am proud of my baby for going into poetry, it is very good for working through your emotions (am proud of Charm for that too, but, ya know, my son vs Charm) and 2) I am not surprised to see him being into poetry given the sheer number of books we see him owning in other series. Like, at least 65, which doesn’t seem like a lot until you remember he’s probably only been acquiring them over the past few years, if not just over the course of the sequels, and that he’d have to be putting aside time specifically to read them given how much shit he’s shown doing regularly. Basically- my boy is literary and it’s wonderful.

And he has realized this ain’t his book.

Ben no heckling! There are rules and manners to the world you know! Gwen smack him.

And upon being heckled Kevin just tosses the book and decides to freestyle it ‘I came out here to have a good time but bitch if you wanna go I’ll go’ style.

He’s not bad. Especially when you consider he’s, so small. As nix would put it ‘this is a fetus’.

Ben, not happy with getting called out.

Ooo, complete with dropping the mike and walking away, point to Kevin! That is Kevin 1:Ben 0 so far this episode.

Ben just the living embodiment of that Pikachu meme after that.

Climbing on stage to try to win a point for himself in this battle of the wordsmithing. Godspeed, Tennyson.

Rath is being Rath and Kevin is just, not impressed. He knows he’s won, he knows Ben is rising to the bait and can’t do shit.

Kevin glancing out into the crowd like ‘am I the only one seeing him being this... wtf? tell me I’m not, we’re all seeing this right?’

Kevin trying to point out to Rath that he is not rapping, not even close, wtf Tennyson. The best part being, I’m fairly sure he’s offended on behalf of all rap at Rath’s complete failure to even be in the same ballpark.

And Ben times out, thank fuck, maybe we can make some progress here before Kevin kicks his ass just to defend the honor of a whole artistic medium.

Also I’m already counting the above as point 2 to Kev.

He hasn’t even started and I’m in pain.

Not eight words in and already Kevin is even less impressed and I’m in even more pain. Just gonna channel Ben trying to rap when I head into urgent care, that should be enough pain to chill me out.

Not even a verse in and Gwen and Max are this close to skipping town and just, abandoning Ben here. “Tennyson? No, no, we’re the Smith family, never seen that kid before, think he might be delusional.”

Point Kevin. He didn’t even have to do anything for this one, just not be Ben.

So that’s Kevin 3:Ben 0, so far this episode.

“Even your grandpa wants you off the stage.” Which is true, but gets Kevin dive-tackled offstage anyway.

Hello Charm, back again I see.

And now it is your turn to realize you have the wrong book?

Oh gods Kevin put effort into making his alien names cooler than Ben’s. And the early ideas were shit. But it worked in the end, so hey. At least we can assume his band-related naming scheme is deliberate in-character. Good on him, too, for writing everything down, it’s good for reference and can help get thoughts straight. (part of why it’s good for dealing with emotional shit)

Don’t you side-eye the camera, child, you mean to tell me you just jumped straight to Charmcaster without any stupid name ideas along the way?

“You started it!”“No you started it!” Okay boys, take you shoving match elsewhere and also Ben, Kev’s right, you are the one who started it with your heckling.

Charmcaster is just, not for Gwen existing in the same area as her. Gwen, meanwhile, is just surprised to see her.

Charm I don’t know what you’re looking for in there, it’s a tween engineer’s private journal, it’s not gonna have anything you can use against Gwen. Against Kevin, probably, against Gwen, not likely.

Charmcaster you cannot get up anyone’s ass about emo poetry when you recited ‘Ode To Hating Gwen So Much #16′ on stage. Pot, kettle, black.

It’s a poetry powered amulet. Either that or Kevin’s poetry counts as spellwork. I wonder if there’s something specific you have to do to make a poem count as a spell or if it’s just whatever works as long as it’s a magic user reading it aloud? Because Charm clearly ain’t meaning to cast this as a spell, at least at first, and yet. That seems kind of worrying though, if that’s the case. I mean what happens if a warlock tries to read his kid some Shel Silverstein at bedtime?

What happens if a sorcerer recites It’s Raining Pigs And Noodles?

I don’t know whether I’m more concerned to continue listening or for how Kevin’ll react if he notices Charm is reading his poetry aloud. I mean this is sounding like a personal one (and speaking as a former 11yo poet with Issues, I know what that sounds like) and gods if somebody I didn’t like was reading one of mine aloud I don’t know if I’d have broken down or killed them where they stood.

Gods I’m gonna have to rewatch this episode when it ends up on CN’s site so I can get a proper transcript of this, their captioning works right.

Welp. I knew emo poetry was powerful but this takes the cake.

Charm that is not your shit! Go find your book again! Or are you worried your shit isn’t as strong as his? I mean I’m getting more and more convinced this isn’t something he’d have been reading aloud.

Oh gods it does only go for real poetry! She tries to throw in some stuff built for spellcrafting and the amulet nopes right out! ‘Sorry, kiddo, there’s gotta be emotion involved or it’s just not happening’.

Hopefully that answers the Pigs And Noodles question

I’m kinda hoping Charm’s mini reign of terror is ended by a beet red Kevin divetackling her from offscreen and wrenching his journal from her. Bonus points if he gets her upside the head with it.

Gotta love when youtube decides to while you’re trying to pause on a scene.

Meanwhile, the boys have worn themselves out with their fighting and arguing.

Kevin, panicking because Charmcaster has his notebook and is also reading it aloud. As is the only proper response to such things.

Ben- out to stop Charmcaster because she a dangerous badguy Kevin- out to stop Charmcaster because she is reading his poetry aloud AAAAA

Charmcaster pls, stop being an ass for seven seconds

Child you cannot just recruit emo boys to write you sad poetry! Especially not after you just read their poetry aloud without their okay, it’s just not right! Besides, that’s not the look of someone who wants anything other than for you to close the book and forget you ever saw anything that was in there.

Charm: Work with me Kevin: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on

“You two are weak” Chamrcaster you only have power right now because you’re taking it from his poetry. I’m pretty sure that puts him above you on the scale by default.

Kevin, joining Team Tennyson purely to get back his notebook. Again, perfectly valid.

TL;DR: Kevin accidentally wrote a spellbook

I’m still wondering what it is that makes his poems work but not Charm’s actual spells? Is it the emotion behind them? In UAF magic was made of life force, in theory putting enough emotion into your writing could maybe imbue the words with magic? Is the solution to this puzzle that Kevin was feeling so strongly when he wrote this shit that they became magic on their own? Or does the amulet just search for true emotion in words and make it so? How is this all working?

If these boys could stop fighting each other for like 13 seconds we might actually get something done.

Charmcaster sealed Gwen’s voice with poetry. Welp.

Welp, the old ‘everything’s an enemy’ illusion trope. Not an illusion this time, but same deal.

Kevin: *easily sees through the spell because Charmcaster!Humongasaur keeps growing his damn tail* “You’d have to be a complete nincompoop not to see through this, right Tennyson?” Ben: *falls right for the spell*

Damnit Ben, Kevin thought you were better than that.

“I can’t not hit the dweeb now.” These children.

Charmcaster leave the innocent bystanders alone!

It takes Ben hearing himself get called Dweebyson to realize he’s fighting Kevin. Kevin knew the deal from the word go. Have I mentioned which one is my son?

Kevin makes Ben embarrass himself to prove he’s him, even though he already knows. Turns to him for a plan.

Kevin as Darkmatter: Finds Ben not timed in, fiddles with Omnitrix to bring it back up to charge, throws him at Charmcaster

“Stop her before she finishes that poem!” Well I’m concerned now

“I’ll show them all what I can do, I’m much more than a leech, their bodies paralyzed by words, their hearts grow heavy from my speech” Yes yes this was a very powerful verse magically I’ll unpause for the results in a second, do you see that second line? That second line there. Do I have to kill somebody? I have to kill somebody don’t I...

Huh, that verse increased gravity on the target(s).

Charm trying to recruit Kevin again, and he’s still turning her down because fuck her and everyone who looks like her. He looks so small in this frame. Very soft faced, he’s got two years younger from the stress of all this.

Oh and she’s pulling out WIPs to blackmail him into complying. I’m going to guess it’s less emo and more Gwen-focused, because I’ve seen media before in my life and know how that shit works. Would prefer more Kevin inner working stuff, but whatcha gonna do. If it is a love poem it’d knock down the rating though.

Also, when you’re so pissed the animators have to give you sharp teeth to emphasize it.

Okay, Kevin’s doodles are cute.

Also why do you have a note in your notebook denoting the secret shit Kevin? Do you have siblings or something? Who is going through your stuff, or that you’re worried might go through your stuff? Or are you just paranoid? It could be the last one.

Okay, so I’m paused on the poem in question and aww, Kevin’s ‘h’s go directly into his vowels. Yes I am commenting on his handwriting let me live. It’s an emotional poem and I’m working out things to say...

Kevin trying to claw his way forward to shut Charm up, it’s not working but he’s trying

Welp

Kevin, wearing a hoodie this episode purely so that during this scene he could drag it over his head to hide his embarrassment at having a poem about caring about Gwen read aloud.

I’m still deducting a point from the episode.

The good news is, the poem restored Gwen’s speech, which, I don’t know what Charm expected to happen there. Of course the semi-positive poem would have a positive effect, come on girl, do you know nothing of magic?

Okay, so, they’re gonna defuse Charm by using her own magic to silence her, via Kevin playing along and writing her a poem that’ll do just that. His improve abilities shall save the day, and what’s left of his pride.

Charm fuck off

Charm, digging your own grave, pls

And Kevin drops the hood when he sees Charm falling hook line and sinker, so proud of himself

Oh that was brilliant darling! “My spells undone, I’m speechless at my own defeat”, two lines and he not only stopped her but undid all the damage she caused! My son! My brilliant, poetic son!

Kevin, so smug

Gwen calling Charm’s ass out on treating people like toys when she of all people should know what that feel like

And not Charm’s amulet responds to her rhymes. Guess it does have to be tied to a proper emotion, rather than just being willy-nilly

Kevin is just happy to get his notebook back.

And Gwen compliments his work which, of course, leads to complete avoidance tactics. I don’t know what you expected Gwen, that last poem was all about him not knowing how to talk to you or even really having a solid hold on how he feels.

And we end with Kevin walking away as Ben disappoints everyone with more horrible rapping.

10/11, the Kevin stuff made up for the Charmcaster bullshit, but we still lose a point for Gwevin as is the rule. I continue to eye Kevin’s backstory with suspicion and suspense.

[b4kuch1n]

two ghosts in Morioh

another day of running around taking care of businesses with my mom. Got some down time in the afternoon and spent it on this. yes Im a fluff writer now. somebody take me out the back

warning for non-plot, terrible poetry (Im serious. Ive never written a poem in english before. its not too nice to the hand), a filler OC thrown in on the spot, lotsa outta-nowhere headcanons, and all else possibly applicable. 

Read on AO3 

Okuyasu finally picked up.

Which was a good thing, because Josuke didn't wanna seem fussy or overbearing. 'twas a lost cause anyway, his mom would tell him, given that he had been anxious ever since he came home from the supposed double date that afternoon, and had walked from one end of the hall to the other over forty time (yes, she counted up until forty), mumbling to himself, hands firmly in his pants' pockets because he knew the moment he stopped holding it tight he would ruin his pomp by running his hand through his hair in frustration. An emotion that he caused to himself, his mom would remind him, because he refused to just walk over to Okuyasu's house and knock.

When the boy in question finally picked up, Josuke was a bit stiff from the draft in the hallway as well as from the tension built up by being stubborn. Okuyasu's voice only just managed to break through.

“Josuke?”

He sounded a bit hoarse. “Yeah, dude, I'm here,” Josuke said. The tension didn't leave him immediately like he hoped. “You didn't come.”

“Fuck, sorry about that. I'm jus'... 'm not in the best mood right now. Didn't wanna ruin it for you guys.”

“Shit, what happened? You okay?” Josuke could hear something fell on the floor with a metallic clunk. “What's that?”

“Oh it's-- 's the paint can. I'm fixin' up big bro's room upstairs. Been meaning to for a while now so... It's.” Okuyasu trailed off.

Josuke felt his shoulders stiffen up a bit more.

“It's some'n to do.”

Josuke bit his lip. After a moment of consciously picking off all traces of anxiety from his manners, he said, calmly, “I'm gonna come over.”

“No, dude, y'don't have to!” Okuyasu immediately barked, with something like panic in his tone. “I'm a bummer right now,” he added, almost sheepishly. “It's dumb, it'll go away on its own. Jus' some'n from the class.”

“Don't even think of it as me coming over to comfort you if that's better.” Josuke had to actively try to stay nonchalant now. “I'm helping with the room fixin'. It's gonna take the rest of the night with just you. That cool?”

He just caught his free hand moving towards his head on its own when Okuyasu sighed and he could hear the paint can being picked up. “Fine. I'm gonna be upstairs, let yaself in when you're over.”

By August 1999, Okuyasu had been sleeping in the guest room downstairs for ten months.

Keicho was a private person, and nobody could blame him at that. No kid would want to leave their toys trailing about when their father was so quick to anger. Keicho had faced so much of that misdirected rage, had put himself between his father and his younger brother so many times, that anything he had that wasn't broken he held on with an almost death grip. His routines, his CD collection, his rules, his own anger. He never learned to let go, and Okuyasu, whom Morioh had given more chances than it ever did his brother, had been feeling something like pity for that, and then guilty for pitying his brother.

He didn't really want to use Keicho's room again, especially when he never got his brother's permission. When Keicho had left balancing the book in Okuyasu's hand, their life became a clash between Okuyasu's fussing about trying to take care of things and Keicho's own rhythm and order, the solution to which that they came up with being that Keicho got the entirety of the second floor to himself. Okuyasu didn't mind – everything was simple with him, really – but after Keicho's death he felt even more out of place in that part of the house.

“It's fine if you wanna seal it off, dude,” Josuke told him one evening when he stayed the night, “you're the one living here. It's not like people know or care about that stuff, either way.” Josuke was smart, but he also believed in courtesy and manners even though he had been subjected to so much of the opposite of that, and it made for a strange kind of trust in humanity. One that was different from Okuyasu's own.

So in the end he decided to only seal Keicho's room. He had been slowly packing everything his brother left behind in the house into small carboard boxes and stashing them in the hallway. He wanted to keep a whole afternoon and evening free just to fix up the room itself, but he didn't think today would be it.

“Yeah, Koichi actually steered me home the moment we were sure you wouldn't show,” Josuke said mid-sweep. “I don't think Yukako mind. Actually I'm pretty sure Yukako doesn't really want me there third wheeling them. Gotta say I was about the same.”

“Sorry for leaving you hangin',” Okuyasu repeated, just as apologetic as when he said it the first time.

“It's not your fault you aren't well, dude,” Josuke stood up straight, free hand in his pocket. “Though a word beforehand would be good. But you were home late from the class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Goto-sensei holding you up again?”

“Nah, he's nice.” He would be, after Josuke and Okuyasu dragged him out of some serious troubles last month. He was also a nice man in general. Okuyasu thought his writing style really didn't reflect that.

Josuke raised an eyebrow at his answer. Well, Josuke would have a different impression of Mister Goto Azuma, moderately famous novelist, given that the one who had to take a pen in the arm to grab the man (then under a Stand's control) was him and not Okuyasu. That kind of viciousness must keep people wary for a long time. Not to mention the apology gift they got was a place in Goto's ten-hour creative writing course organized by the uni, which was of no use to Josuke, but which Okuyasu snatched right up.

Outside of that event though, Goto-sensei was a mild-mannered, if a bit emotional and wordy person. He had anguish in his heart, sure, but he told Okuyasu once in class, in the tone of someone who was citing their name and age, that he wanted to love everything and anything more than he wanted to wallow in his sadness, so he channeled all of it into his writing and left his personal life free for his other emotions. Okuyasu found that a good way to do things as any.

“I'm gonna trust you on that,” Josuke said after a stretch of silence. Okuyasu grinned. “Anyway, something happened during the writing class then?”

“Yeah-- well, nah, but yeah.” Okuyasu rubbed his hands nervously under Josuke's confused look. “I mean, kinda? Goto-sensei gave us a prompt, and then I wrote something sad, and it bummed me out. 's all.”

Josuke's eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said, “huh.”

“Yeah, it's dumb. Tolja don't mind it.”

“It's not dumb if it bums you out, dude.” Josuke leaned the broom against the desk and stepped closer to Okuyasu. His pomp looked almost plastic-ish under the buzzing light of the room. Okuyasu blinked when he held his biceps with both his hands. “I like you happy, Okuyasu. We gotta go there somehow, and I'm not a waiting man.”

Okuyasu looked at Josuke, eyes somehow brighter than the light should've made them, hands holding him firm as if willing him to believe. As if that had ever been necessary. He took a deep breath, and broke out in a grin.

“Thought so. You're a musical man.”

“Hell yeah I am.” The grin crept up onto Josuke's face, and he dragged Okuyasu in for a quick hug. “So, what's that piece you wrote today about?”

“I mean, you can read it.”

It must be impossible for Josuke's eyes to grow wider than this. This was maximum wide eye for him. “Really?”

“'s not fine art or some'n, but if you're cool with that, why the hell not. Wait here.”

Josuke waited in Keicho's half-cleaned room while Okuyasu went downstairs to fetch his notebook. Goto-sensei didn't care what his students did with what they wrote after class (“It's yours,” he had said, with passion, “and me telling you what to do with what's inherently yours is against everything I live for. Any experience you have with your own writing is deeply personal and unique, and if that includes setting your drafts on fire and inhaling the smoke, who am I to keep that from you?” He seemed to actually got misty-eyed at that idea.), but Okuyasu liked the man, and he thought keeping the things he wrote in his class in order was a way to show respect to a good teacher. Or it could at least make up for his terrible handwriting.

He flipped through the notebook as he went back upstairs. Man, he wrote more than he thought he did.

“Here,” he handed the notebook – opened to the correct page – to Josuke, who had finished sweeping the room and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a subdued excitement. Josuke seemed extra careful with his hold on the thing.

“It's a poem?” Okuyasu didn't think that was actually meant to be a question, but he faltered a bit nonetheless.

“It's-- yeah. You aren't into that?”

“Dude, I barely read actual literature no matter what kind, that's not the thing. I'm just... poems are supposed to be even more about emotions than, like, novels and shit, right? I, uh...”

Josuke bit his lip. Okuyasu tried to follow the thread of logic.

“Goto-sensei said our writing is whatever we will it to be. If ya worry this won't be manly and cool, I'm gonna. I'm gonna will it into being for ya.”

“It's not that, dummy.” Josuke smacked him over the head with the notebook. He was smiling again though, so Okuyasu didn't mind. “I just don't think I can get the whole experience without you, like, walking me through it. Since you're the one with the emotions in this poem and all. So can you...”

Okuyasu grabbed the notebook. He looked at Josuke, and then at the words on the page between them, and then tentatively finished that hanging thought. “...recite it for ya?”

“Forget it if it bums you out again, okay?” Josuke held his hands up. “I'm cool either way. I wanna read it properly, sure, but if it's gonna ruin the night for you then forget it.”

Okuyasu stood there with his own notebook in his hand, with his boyfriend, in his brother's room that they were cleaning. He looked at Josuke, and then up at the buzzing light, and then at Keicho's CD collection on the shelf, newly dusted.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I'm not gonna hold onto it like that, dude.” And then he took Josuke's hand and said, “Let's come up to the roof for a bit.”

They left Keicho's room behind and went up to the attic, from where they climbed their way awkwardly up onto the Nijimuras' newly re-tiled roof. August was too early to feel chilly at night in Morioh, but there were winds, and the sky was wide open. Okuyasu thought it was a good place as any to give the poem a reading.

They settled on the warm tiles, and then Okuyasu had to stand up to go get a flashlight, and when he came back to the roof Josuke was still there – as if he would go away the moment Okuyasu blinked – the notebook balanced on his thigh.

“Ready,” Josuke said once Okuyasu had sit back down snug next to him, partly as a question and partly as a confirmation of his own status, and Okuyasu nodded.

“Alright.”

Okuyasu had never recited a poem before. His mom was a storyteller when she was alive, but there was a long stretch of time during which her conditions worsened slowly and the occasions lessened until both her and the stories were gone. His dad wasn't a wordy man, not outside of anger and grief. Keicho really would rather have silence than a human voice outside of his own, and again Okuyasu couldn't blame him for that. Or even question it, really, not when Keicho had his CDs and treasured them so. Outside of all that, Okuyasu had also never been good at school. He had other things to do, and the few literature classes he actually sat in for never saw him chosen by a teacher to read anything out loud from the textbook.

So, Okuyasu didn't really know what he was doing, no. But he was also a simple man, and right now it was doing it or not doing it. And Josuke had casted his vote – the only one that counted here and now.

“It's called 1999,” he said, and found his voice a bit raspy. He didn't figure out to clear his throat.

Cigarette butt on the ground

he chose one to pick up

and hold like a torch

Hand over head

Whispers like smoke

flow

1999

numbers he carried

one

in his left pocket

on the pad

along the line

into the waves

it's important, that's what he said

Cigarette butt in the air

His hand red

His eyes red

through them, the sky orange

twilight is for a while,

if statues are the same

1999

replays dissolve

into statics

into waves

away

one

on his lips

I didn't mean it like that,

or was it

I never told him,

or even

I don't think he knows,

that's what he said

Cigarette butt against the sky

futile

1999

variables

one

dissolved into the waves

my name is doubt,

and his I never got

1999

I met two ghosts in Morioh.

They were quiet a long time after that. When Josuke spoke up, he sounded like he just cried a bit. “Dude, that's so fucking sad.”

Okuyasu tried to keep himself from shining the flashlight on Josuke to see if he really had been crying. “For real? I don' even know what it's exactly about anymore. Jus' a buncha, uh, concepts put together randomly.”

“It got emotions into me, alright? So it's good to me, deal with it.”

“It makes you sad!”

“It's good sad though. Like listening to a late artist's album sad.” Josuke threw an arm around Okuyasu's shoulders. “That's how art is.”

“Sure,” Okuyasu harrumphed, but then smiled to himself, just a bit.

The two sat there on the roof well into the night. At one point they found their hands intertwined; Okuyasu let himself lean into the contact, flashlight and notebook laid aside, essentially forgotten. Late night breeze felt like sleep.

“The point of that poem is that I love you,” he said, and let it be.

The hand in his own tightened, and Josuke replied, with all the conviction his being could store, “I know, dude. Love you too.”