i have spent hours
reading my own words
was asked for a manuscript
filled with my writing
for a book of poetry
my goddess
there is only so much
of myself
i can handle
after a month and a half
of insipid lines
i may finally snap
why do i continue
after all of this
she still hasn’t seen
what sloppy prose
cannot reveal
what depression
locks onto
what loneliness
has imprinted
so deeply
onto a vacant mind
i have selected twenty five
they asked
for two hundred
i need more coffee
six feet of rope
before I can go
any farther


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