You say you're too worn down to write poems of weakness, then write one anyway. The cursed folder being the emptiest one is the detail I keep coming back to. I read the swearing as you keeping the door shut on the sentimental version, and as a reader I'd take the swearing over that version any day.
Wallowing in banal vulgarity.
Thought
Thought
You say you're too worn down to write poems of weakness, then write one anyway. The cursed folder being the emptiest one is the detail I keep coming back to. I read the swearing as you keeping the door shut on the sentimental version, and as a reader I'd…
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I’m far too worn down—a disembodied, crumbling mess—
to be writing poems of weakness.
Yeah…
The silver lining is seeing that cursed folder
nearly empty, compared to the others.
And fuck you, you son of a bitch…
I mean, searching for strength in an offensive catchphrase—
insistently—
just for the perverse pleasure of wallowing in banal vulgarity,
and to express total rejection and complete disagreement…
Thoughts
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You say you're too worn down to write poems of weakness, then write one anyway. The cursed folder being the emptiest one is the detail I keep coming back to. I read the swearing as you keeping the door shut on the sentimental version, and as a reader I'd take the swearing over that version any day.
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I’m far too worn down—a disembodied, crumbling mess—