I shouldn't have said anything.
I should have just wrote something right here.
Now it's all out in the open.
And all I taste is the fear.
I've never felt so livid.
I'm usually rational.
But I feel like shattering everything,
to resemble my tact.
I'm done with zen.
I'm done bottling it up.
I bet my words taste like the ******* IPA,
and I just don't give a ****.
It used to be so easy- to give you a free pass.
You spun me until I was dizzy,
and now I'm on my ***.
But I don't care how ****** I look anymore.
I don't care about how this poem *****.
**** artful stringing of lines.
I just want to make ****** rhymes.
So I can laugh and pity myself later.
For some reason this self deprecation,
is really cooling my temper.
There must be some **** wrong upstairs.
God, I just looked at my phone again.
What I'd give for there to be a fire right now.
And for this disdainful crud to melt away.
Oh sorry, I couldn't respond...
my phone was on ******* fire.
Like my ******* self-respect.
How rich would that be?
Oh, look, I'm angry again.
What I'd give to hitch hike away.
But I think about my student loan debt,
and I guess that makes me decide to stay.
I guess it's time to sleep again.
When I wake up I won't feel a thing.