heart felt blunt words
And my neigbours are old but they are up later than me.
My spelling is bad, yet I still write poetry.
Personality, personality, writing needs depth,
No rhyme scheme no syllable counts no breath.
My bare calloused hands killing flies,
With sheets of polyester, pizza boxes and zip ties.
That line was hard to swallow,
Like cum and medicine and pills and sorrow.
The human condition,
conditions traditions.
Forces submission and capitalism.
What a charming revision.
The human condition,
lacks capitalism via punctuation.
For capitalism would imply grammatical celebration,
when indeed it’s definition reflects cannibalism.
The human condition,
is sad repetition.
Life and death played out in suburban subdivisions
The human condition,
drives youth to self inflicted incisions.
Suicide contemplations,
cases and cases of denaturation.
The human condition,
screams for detoxification,
or better yet,
extermination.
Starrfishing 