#dontaskme
Yes, that should do.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDX)
What happened to long summer hours' dim sense
Of leisure, where I pined for chill t'avail,
And stoked the thought of misty twilight's pale
Eye while gaunt skeletons of trees skulked thence,
Dreamed of 'gain donning plaid and tweed fr'intents,
Yea of lo, nestling in such minutes' scale
Praps of "my niche"--that oh! tis ah, the frail
Note as it were of late November hence?
Why did warmth skip out on the last train to
Was't Mexico? um, was just days 'go fer
All that? Where did the musty hours I knew
Depart to, eh? and when? December'd tour
Upon the heels of late October, poor
As saying, and I search for my bearings...too.
11Nov18b
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Will I make it out of here?
I swear I'll only make you cry
My breath is shallow
My lungs cannot hold enough air
I'll be god, I'll be god today
You'll be mortal forever
My head is filled with parasites
That eat away at my brain
Till it is gone
Then they'll go for my eyes
They will eat me
Until I am only bone
And my tears are salt
Like the stars
Connecting together
To form the phantom image
Of me
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 10:02 PM UTC