Attention w***e

poets

practice

pathological

plagiarism

as if

we are

the only

pursuers

of

predictably

pernicious

pain.

 

(alliteration sounds too whimsical)

 

When

we cry,

(everyone does it)

our tears are oil spills;

we wait

for someone

to fumble with matches.

 

(lighters are much too easy to operate)

 

When

I smile,

it’s in mirrors

when I’m picking

self-respect

out of my teeth

 

(someone tell her to shut the f**k up)

Reviews

[J Johnson III]

I really like your writing style here. It calls to me. Very intriguing piece. I really enjoyed it.