I want to write a poem. No, like I really really really wanna write a poem. Problem, stick it to me. Pause Poems have to be good. Okay, so a poem doesn't have to be good However, the point of the art is to have someone read Those flippy little words that you pulled out Of some intangible existence and pasted on The Internet.
The Internet, So you don't always put it online but, Other people are "supposed" to read it. To enjoy it, give you a pat on the back, Maybe an "I see what you did there". So poems are supposed to be presentable. You've got to pay in sweat and ink but, At least the words themselves are free.
What if I don't wanna have to make a "good" poem? Okay so I really do want a pat on the back but Sometimes I really like pasting things from Intangible existences. Fancy words right? Let me pat my own back. Sometimes I just like putting my emotions on paper While sounding like I read More dictionaries than Webster. Ha, ha, sigh.
There's a problem with having to be inspired to write **** down. Do you think someone pays Taylor Swift's boyfriends To break up with her So she can write the Next big hit? I wouldn't doubt it. My guardian angel should make the people around me Say weird stuff such that I can write about Walking on waves of shattered glass Or Singing of birds in circled flight. Maybe I'd be better off being hit by a car. That'd be some pretty touching poetry.
Some people write happy poetry too, I don't know how they do it. Sorry but, my world isn't flowers and butterflies Enough to warrant discussion of Staying in the fairy meadow of light. Sorry, I'm just jealous.
Maybe I just like writing stuff down? What if I just don't want to be forgotten? Leaving a legacy in my words more indellible Than a pat on the back. Doubt it.
I just don't want to forget. Brain, why don't you get it? I'm sitting here getting all intimate with an idea and The next morning Brain's got no clue what their name is. Like really, even if we invite a friend over and get creative with Our tongues and mouths, Brain doesn't remember the moments shared between us. Paper doesn't think very well but it's got a decent memory bank. So I save up for a brand new poem. I thought words were free.