help me, for I have forgotten how to write
three mugs of green tea,
two spoken words,
a glimpse of sunlight,
and I don’t know what contentment is supposed to feel like,
but I do not think it’s this.
Special providence in the fall of a sparrow,
but only if you’re the fucking cat.
I’ve read a lot,
and pretended to have read a lot,
and the only thing I remember from the many books
and the many poems
and the many pretend poems and pretend books and pretend people
is that I really -
Have no idea where the hell this was going, anyway.
and I’m breathing,
and I’m pretty sure my heart is beating and that my
stomach is dissolving the apple I just ate
but it’s wholly unsatisfactory and I’m
for something more than the
fruit that caused the end of time.
I am legion, for we are many –
Many disgruntled noises and
tears at 3 in the morning,
and happy squeals and
Many words and many ideas
Dammit, Sorcha, Write something more
WHERE IS THE RHYME
WHERE IS THE ASSONANCE
WHERE IS THE ALLITERATION, CAESURA, ON-O-MATO-PEIA, and WHERE IS YOUR IAMBIC FUCKING PENTAMETER
I am too angry for caesura
and too proud to rhyme.