I don't like life today,
and tomorrow I won't, either
I rarely bother to write about it anymore

The over and over pounding
—head against head—
Can the nail go in any further?

Maybe.
Maybe if I think some more,
I can find something new in the muck

Or maybe I continue to sift
because the grime is familiar,
and to find something new
would ruin the whole experience

I could go for being ruined

Don't turn me inside out
before you throw me in the dryer
I want you to see my cracks when I'm done