I am miserably prolific /mean butterfly eating my insides\
my writings less agreeable than my dreams: no fun ||| ate
mud [check] ate my own heart [check] stood up when i
should have stood down [check]
wept and cried [x]
danced and went hysterically comical but carried the dead
child which was once me inside as the crowd laughed.
And for ENCORE? Doing it all over would be pure
poetic MADNESS! /
i gave all my laughs and tears and guts whether sane
or madness creeps inside but bless who you are and for
the song you sing but no more___for all those hearts of everyone
a star burns out and others explode; bless your hearts.
AND the claws of monstrous reality pulls me back into my head.
:: 11.05.2021 ::