i know i've posted this before, and that it was not even very long ago, but this poem is, possibly, the only good poem i have ever written in my life. i don't remember writing it, and that only convinces me more; it must have been just a burst of light. (allusion)


Somewhere,
inbetween the unattended spatter of a masquerade,
truly lay scenes of
shivering fortitude kneeling
or quivering lips delving
deeper
into cerulean melancholy.

but, in (y)our somnolent world, those with postmodern bodies direct (y)our sentiments

-using cleverly, witterly-designed, redundant [but who notices?] rhetoric -

towards believing that those
em ty pl ys
aresolidoutright

and are what we
exist
to mock.