every daisy-chain of questions
that runs through my mind
ends with i don't know
on a very bad day
when you've got
anger and shame and anxiety
you're not supposed to care
none of it
is left on the gravestone
adhering to such
a worldview
can he hard
but then again,
maybe i'm
misunderstanding
something
i don't know
i don't know
popping all the these bubbles
hurts
there's not a single
superstition or conviction
to comfort me
even though i know
i'm one with the universe
sometimes i still feel
like a dead branch in a
factory.
YOU ARE READING
(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]
Poetrymy keyboard is a minefield. my mind is broken glass. when my body bursts apart, the shards catch light and look like blinking stars. ( 1 year of poetry )
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