She’s cheeky
She tells me to stop
That poetry is dead
ALL POETS MUST DIE
She yells in caps lock
I lament and dig
Into the bowels
Of my horror
Of my rhythmical
Regurgitating madness
To give reason
For my exploration
These darkened spaces
These sappy ballads
My arching expressions
Into confusions womb
Like battle scars
Pocking my being;
Unsettling patrons
Horrifying relations
Yet I try
I push out my heart
Bleed it upon death
Illuminated pixels
Spare tablets
Leftover envelopes
And just push play
