Smashing Pumpkins

Smashing Pumpkins
“I wanted more than life could ever grant me,
bored by the chore of saving face.” ~Today

Remember that time in the Summer of 2008?
You picked up your acoustic guitar,
a Fender, you always wanted to play;
let the chords slip through your fingers—
0,0,2 slowly ring out,
it sounds nothing like what rings out
of your Walkman, dated 2003.

Suicide is only a fresh memory,
I wanted more than life could ever grant me,
bored by the chore of saving face;
remember sitting in art class?
The day after that call?
They really worried about you
and the pink ribbons that decorated your skin;
the highs and lows, people never understood—
Smashing Pumpkins on repeat
as you draw the acrylics stain your black Slayer shirt;
this picture will make a perfect cover
for your next masterpiece,
or so the teachers called it.

You bought that acoustic guitar,
and they said it would be therapy:
with Smashing Pumpkins on repeat,
it was a disaster—
he hated that guitar,
but that boyfriend hated everything about you—
bored by the chore of saving face;
he gave you that electric piece of shit
that didn’t ring, that didn’t sing
and distorted Today
and Smashing Pumpkins on repeat.

It didn’t last, thank god,
as the shiny rims distort
the agitation and tears;
replaced by new electricity,
the amp booms dark and loud,
but it plays the Smashing Pumpkins well;
the 0,0,2 clearly rings—
I wanted more than life could ever grant me.