T’was never, ever poetry
Not. For. A. New. York. Minute.
But somehow, anyhow they opted upon half-heartedly taking to me
Hardly in their droves, yet seems to be the case I’m fair happy
You see, there are dreams then there is this particularly bespoke anomaly – selling poetry
Hollywood multiplied by ten, albeit all up inside of my very own head
When, and where does it get to stop, please for the love of God don’t you dare ever come back at me and say even before I ever really got to begin…?
Need. To. Side-Step. That. Age-old. Dread.
All about a pressure cooker of sorts, heat turned up full ’til quite literally imploding aforementioned head
One. More. Time. For. The. Memories.
If so, then this pen has finally managed to create enough poems to fill each person a whole town over
Multiplied by ten, perhaps
Christ, did I really manage to map this particular one out right from the harrowing beginning!?

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