Three Poems By D.T. Robbins

the best horror movie you’ll never see is everyone else watching you completely fuck up your life

stone cold drunk

sneaking into a movie theater 

to see Slender Man

shouting, oh noooooo

when the first person gets killed

and causing a group of teenagers to walk out

is how I’d like to be remembered

when I die

high school in Mississippi was rad if you’re a little bit into masochism

during freshman year of high school a goth girl jumped out from around the corner in the cafeteria and spit in my face wet and chunky and sticky and stinking like she’d been letting the food turn to rot inside her mouth for a million years and when she did it she looked at me bug-eyed and amazed either at the fact that she’d gone through with it or the fact that I just stood there staring right back at her with a stupid grin on my face in love and heartbroken all at once


after Sting went full Crow-Sting in 1996, I dealt with my problems the same way:

parents getting divorced? Crow-Me

Heather G. said I’m ‘gross’? Crow-Me

coked-out Jesus freak moves in with us, tries to kill us? Crow-Me

mom calls the cops on dad? Crow-Me

didn’t make the basketball team? Crow-Me

evicted from our house? Crow-Me

failed pre-algebra? Crow-Me

getting back acne? Crow-Me

Crow-Me, everywhere—in the corners of classrooms and churches and courtrooms and gas stations and summer camps and school photos and baseball games and BBQs and family therapy and AOL chatrooms and pool parties and Thanksgiving and campgrounds and the mall and tucked in the back of your mind until you finally, without question, see how sad I am. 

D.T. Robbins has work in HobartMaudlin HouseExpatX-R-A-Y, and others. He’s founding editor of Rejection Letters

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *