A poet’s poem

I want to write my best poem. This time it won’t be bout love or girls…my girlfriend called me out and said I always write bout that… So I will write a new poem deterred from love. It will be about that, that and that…simple stuff

This poem will have stanzas as a poem should. It will rhyme like the lines of Busta rhymes. I will have similes. Juxtapositions and all the other jargon a poem should have. I doubt I will have use big words… I am not DICtionary.

You must be aware it is a prototype so I will make mistakes. So don’t pop champagne bottles just yet. I will write lines I don’t mean and lines I do mean. I, hmmm…okay, I am scratching that line out…and adding this one…nope…that sounds wrong….okay ja if I write it like this… got it.

This poem is sure to make you feel nauseous at first…you will run to the bathroom and vomit after reading it… realising that you just fell pregnant. The words I wrote are too heavy on your womb.

I want to trap myself in this glass menagerie poem of mine; a brittle, fragile work that bares no meaning whatsoever.

It’s going to be a different poem; one that entangles no emotions and does not concern itself with a happy ending? The poem will be a catalyst to non-stop burning fire, and I simply will watch the fire burn by my balcony with a handful of chips and a cigarette in my mouth.

I want to write a poem that will make you thirsty to drink more of it. My new poem will be a spade that digs deeper and deeper into your own consciousness, consciousness. I am repeating that so it will echo deep in your mind

To be honest. I was getting tired of writing poems without replies. Tired of telling girls I want to fuck them in different ways. Tired of loving…I felt like a lyrical whore.

I can already see the end of this poem. It has left you flabbergasted…confused at the gibberish you just read. My friends it’s a beginning of a new era; the air of doom that eradicates pesticide nonsense.

I am scared though. What if you don’t like this new poem of mine? That in writing it I fade away like mist on a sunny day. What if my new poem doesn’t get likes nor any comments below? Well Fuck you, you never comment anyway. You like the sound of my mind but you don’t want to share it. Hogging my mind all to yourself, I see your evil ways.

So I won’t publish this poem publicly. It will be a secret between you and I. If I fail only you’d know. I am fine with that.

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