Sorry.
I want to apologize for that last one.
Maybe I lost my temper a bit and that's not cool.

I just find lately when I sit down and put my hands on the keyboard,
with everything going on I just get so angry.

Angry at myself.
Angry at the world we live in.

Before you write that obnoxious ill-informed thought on twitter-
go **** yourself instead. and have a great day

Poetry is dead
Let's bury it in pages

Our misguided conclusions
Prejudice assumptions
Thoughts on love, lies, and isolation
(So many ******* poems about love can you stop writing poems about love? For like 5 ******* seconds no one cares about this love story that you think is so sad or romantic or whatever ****
No, I'm sorry that's mean
but it's a real thought I have sometimes
I guess I'm a bad person)
Vane photography
Images of *******
Subscription packages
2-day delivery
Telling other people how they are wrong
How we are right
And how we don't have to explain ourselves
While explaining ourselves every day in great detail
Applauding each other for our mediocrity
Great ******* job y'all
Every thought from every person
That has access to a wifi router

Meaning is dead
and it continues to die
Are you confused
Well so am I

Here's to the moments
Where your shadow holds more weight
And all you can do is stare at the blank wall

When did this sadness become so much bigger?
Something with sharp tooth and malicious jaw,
Biting as though nothing were even there.

To be truthful,
Sometimes I toss my heart away, like garbage.
Even though, I know it's all I've got.

For there's this thing inside me,
And it is something more than sadness.

Each poem I write is written.
Yes they know, that's very good.
Each poem by a different person.
Don't think that was understood.

With a unique mask
I'll hide behind
This same body
But a different mind

Love is
Like a sharp twinkling crystal
Beautiful in its aspects
And wondrous to consider

But it's a funny thing holding on to and the brighter it gets the tighter you'll want your grip

And you may bleed
If the edges cut too deep
And then you might drop it
Shattering on the floor

Even in shards and pieces
It still twinkles
But not the same