I typically reserve that line for someone
after I hit them with a sweet burn text,
but in this case,
it was the bomb,
that was dropped on my head,
destroying every ideal of you.

so many questions i have.
however; i know the answers you’ll
provide will smell like the psych ward:
rancid, foul, putrid, shitty, and crazy,
concealed with bleached veneers.

blinded by its camouflage,
i’ve been inked by this octopus;
the toxin racing through my veins
until i finally bled out…on this page.

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Currently living in Vietnam, teaching English, fixing the world's problems.

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