as i get progressively drunker
i reject this machination
the paltry, twiddly dim dip
worthlessness
of electronic
embodiment
now a guitar smashes through the ashes
a brick wall fine to crumble
between sparse and inherent phobias
pains so painful
and laughter's much louder yeah
this is splitting
she wants to comfort
and day after next
she
wants to dive into else-forth
all the while
she never did a thing
the mushy mass mess of a pink
plain sprained brain contains
paranoia draining out the eyes
of a blank donkey
blind to follow
and once filled with virtue
but demonizes
the most innocent thing
born to be

"see, jake, the thing about poetry is the START connects to the END. YOUR poetry, however, starts somewhere and ends in Zimbabwe...you'll never convey the point..."
-thank you elliot, go suck a fuck