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 ::