A poem written each day upon waking. It's mostly unedited. I think that's the point. Promise not to laugh, or let me give up, and please, wish me luck.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
2/14/11
So here we are:
breaking backs for "the man"
Tricky meat & dirty pores,
Sticky feet & dirty floors.
Shrill airs filled
with deafening industrial squeels -
"Resistance is futile"
(as forever feels.)
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