Sorry if my poetry’s been garbage lately, I’m so out of inspiration it’s not funny. I find myself loathing all traditional vocabulary, phrases, English constructs. I yearn for the older days of beauty. Dickens, um, you know, those kinds of folks. I can’t read because of my ADD, more than technical documents and brief posts, so I apologize if you’re writing beautiful short stories and I can’t seem to comment on them. I love leaving comments.

Trace of distraction there.

“It’s been so long I’ve been out of my body with you

I feel alone feel at home feel like nothing is true”

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