i get high
write shitty poetry
by myself
under the moon
a cloud of startear smears
across the screen
in the steady tapping
to the emptiness
that fills me
in its own

i get drunk
compose simple sonnets
to you
as the room
spins a vertiginous whirlpool
through my brain
as i weave
the subsonics of heartbled
that shudder through
my centrifugal desire

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