i'm not a poet. i write prose- i'm a p(r)oseur.
you can't make me rhyme (it's killing time) or write about puppies (recreational burning) and flowers (cut and rotting) and love (soul swallowing) and spring (fading) and sun (combusting) and rainbows (aren't real) and functioinal (rehearsed) beautiful (plastic) families (domestic rape camps) and music (noisecore) and happy (impossible) endings (it's all over) and fluffy (suffocating) bunnies (cursed feet) and smiles (fangs) and making (faking) love (spearmaiden) and joy (gay) and blissful (ignorant) innocence (hypocrisy) and youth (foolish) and health (delusions OF) and trees (firewood) and orgasmic (she's faking it) success (unobtainable) and ALL THAT MUSHY SHIT (don't pretend you don't know).

                  
IT'S NOT CATHARTIC.

i won't write
(drool) in flawless (over-compensated) diction (suck-up) or in cute (roadkill) little (kill the kitty) stanzas (show-off) with witty (egotistical) quips (ripped from trite poets) or elaborate (deceptional) masterpieces (transparent) that MAKE YOU THINK (about things you really shuold have thought about before) about things that aren't reallly important anyway (you).
i'm not a poet. i write prose- i'm a p(r)oseur.
p(r)oseur
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