saudade by sato masaki by porno graffiti

kat, april 15 2024

This will be a poem about boredom

because I sit with my word processor open

listening to a sato masaki live performance

of the song saudade by porno graffiti

and I know I want to write

but I don’t know what to write

sato masaki is all the passion I wish I had

that makes it sound like I loved her dearly

which would be a lie

because I only loved her after she left the group

and that makes it sound like I never liked her in the group

you’re always fucked one way or the other

and isn’t it funny how I listen to these idols and take them so seriously

when girls like sato masaki don’t take themselves seriously

or at least we think she doesn’t

because we don’t know her

and never will

no matter how much the annoying guy I know on discord thinks he knows these girls

because he gets to go to fan meetings and the rest of us can’t

jealousy, jealousy, morning musume sang

and they sang it with meaning

not mocking

but it feels like that now

when I read the title

jealousy, jealousy

as I watch my friends move to their third year of college

as I’m barely in my sophomore year

this wasn’t supposed to be personal

but all creativity is personal on some level

like the blood that dripped from my nose before I passed out last month

the blood that ripped out of my nose when I face planted during my seizure

and I came home to a smeared blood stain on the floor that my sister’s boyfriend cleaned up for me

I felt drunk that night in the hospital

as I laid in the bed

I have never been drunk

I don’t remember the gown being put on me

I don’t remember the nosebleed

I have splotches blotted into my memory of EMTs handling me

and being in the ambulance

my mom clinging to me and telling me things would be ok

but everything’s blurry at the edges

and all this happened six or so months ago

but I won’t get over it I think

because the taste of worry is intoxicating

as I laid in the bed

and my memory was shot to hell that night

I don’t remember much

but I remember my mom’s panic and worry

and the worst part

is that now

as sato masaki sings words that aren’t hers with her heart

that she felt eternity while she was by your side

I don’t feel bad for worrying my mom from not taking my meds

and I swear it was an accident

because I had run out

and that’s the truth, I have nothing to admit to in this poem, officer!

I felt that eternity that sato masaki sings about

as she spins and flails on stage during the instrumental break

as I laid in that bed

the cannula up my nose like a six year old sticking crayons up their nose

the IV in my arm like that same six year old etching and jabbing pencils into their erasers

I said you’re always fucked one way or the other before, didn’t I

it’s always something, I know

I have two identities that I balance

that I don’t want my offline friends knowing about

that I tell my online friends too much about

but both of them will be reading this poem I hope

so it doesn’t really matter as much anymore

this poem is still about boredom

I remember gregory and the hawk wrote a song about boredom

and it was shorter than this

she’s better with words than I’ll ever be

but I won’t get anywhere comparing myself to others

but I sound like a poster on a middle school classroom wall saying that

one way or the other, you’re screwed!

I laid in that bed and stared at the curtain blocking half of me from the coughs of the ER

and I didn’t wear a mask until I realized and begged for one

but before then

I didn’t think about that

I only thought about the dread

and the grace with which I wound up in that bed

by face planting on the floor

and somehow not breaking my nose

because I think it was a hard fall

dread and grace and eternity

‘crying, smiling, liking, hating’ sato masaki sings right now

she left morning musume because of health issues

that people made fun of

but ichioka reina left beyooooonds because of health issues

and everyone cried

one way or the other, you’re FUCKED!

I didn’t cry when ichioka left

I didn’t cry when sato left

I never cry at graduations anymore

but I cried in that hospital bed

crocodile tears it felt like

because it was all my fault that I ended up there

but I cried and cried and I think now

that a hospital bed is from where I lie the most from

because I’m not happy to be there, I think

but an ugly part of me is

and that ugly part grins and puppets me like a sad, fucked up muppet every day

it’s from a hospital bed that I cried and begged for forgiveness for fucking up that bad

I don’t remember much of that part

it’s all a haze

most of november 2023 is

but I think

and this is the ugly part talking

that as much as I say I’m scared of hospitals

I’m not afraid anymore

of the sirens of an ambulance

and the croak of radios from EMTs

sato masaki smiles and bows

but I don’t have an elegant end to this poem

I scroll up and realize I was talking about boredom when I started this

I guess in my boredom

I only think about how much I love my misery

and how much it disgusts me