I hate to burden you
with my ugly stew.
I've wreaked havoc
too much on the clock.
I wish I were a pain.
Humanity's stain
died in a **** oven
pity blessed coven.

The news is much more enjoyable now.


















NOT

a feather,
soft and light as the wind.
it is carried by the soft breeze, and it has seen everything. (are you SURE?)

dear feather, haven’t you seen?
the star that shines for me
‘no, it’s not for you. it’ll never be.’
and the feather wanders and wanders, seeking to see everything.

dear feather, haven’t you seen?
the art that i am opens its eyes for me
‘no, it didn’t. it never will.’
and the feather was once again, pushed by the soft breeze of the morning.

dear feather, haven’t you seen?
the chains that trapped my mouth were parted
i bite now
‘even if you did, it’ll just hurt more. the cycle continues and you earn nothing with it.’
but the feather didn’t wander, the breeze seemed to stop.
(better luck next time)

I’ve been thinking a lot about things.
I don’t know why, but I think a lot.
I get tired sometimes, but I like the curvaceous forms it takes.
Here, there, everywhere.
I picture a closet.
Opening slowly.
It’s slightly humid.
But something is trying to get in.
So there’s that.