a poet walks into the sea

i have bled
every emotion
of hopeless
romanticism
and helpless
anxieties
letting them drip
into the aether
where they fall
consumed by silence
met with genuine
indifference

the whiteboard sits
blank except for
a cartoon heart
like the one i drew
in the snow
with our initials
and eros’s arrow
piercing at a
jaunty angle through

it is the only
bit of my unartistic
dithering to actually
hit the mark
all the wasted words
odes written just
to be left unread
i have become a raisin
a grape left to
wither on the vine
trying to tap a vein
unknowing that they
have all collapsed
a helpless romantic
bathed in hopeless anxiety
balancing four jobs
a permanent part timer
wishing for a
full time position
as a successful anything

waking every two hours
sketching cartoon hearts
with the nib
of my tongue
in this empty room
consumed by silence
met with utter disdain
pouring myself
into the lines
tracing every scar
growing colder
ever more numb
wading into the water
only to be spit
back onto the shore
unwanted by death
unable to live
this half life
drowned in poetic
nothingness

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