The universe is of geometry
The nature of space and time can be written down on a chalkboard
We haven’t captured anything
It’s still out there
A computer simulator can let you scroll and scroll and scroll and not even reach Saturn
For fifteen minutes
The universe is big
Fuck, like a dick
It’s so big
I’m lost
I have no outreach
I’m suppressed
The universe is big
This is garbage
I’m a fuck
I’m a piece
Then the weed pipes get tossed
This is a simple train of thought
I’m not creative
This isn’t poetry
Go home
Go to work
I’m not a part of your circle
Stop using the second person, twat(s)!
It sounds like you’re talking to someone
Yeah, bad poetic etiquette
Well I concede
The white flag and gin are yours
I’m just bleeding from an acne scar on my mid-arm
I’m naked, dirty, dirty naked
Not like that
I have bacne
Sounds like bacopa
An herb
Not THE herb
Why does it get that title?
It’s only a time before my suppression kicks back in
And I am silenced again
Is this what it feels like not to have the constant fear that your life is threatened?
Am I at peace?
I’m so confused
No one gets it
It’s bland
It’s startle-weary
I’m so short
Change me
This is garbage
And I know it
But I want to keep going
Because writing–even garbage–feels so damn good
Oh, is it luscious
The darkest chocolate
The biggest black hole
Gamma rays
I’m immersed in the beauty of creation
For once I feel it…
I’ve always felt it, but I was in such a deep hole it was a rescue
Not a pleasure
A mere pedantic note
I won’t bore you
But I will vent
This hole needs a butt
And the butt needs a hole
Well I’m neither
But I do accede the position
The contract
Of head hauncho
Fuck I hate my family
What is wrong with me
I’m so single
I’m so star struck
This is garbage
I say that
I say that
it’s over
It’s over
I’m sunk
I’m fallen
I give up
I’m alive
I give up
I’m alive
I give up…
