Way too busy to post a lengthy diatribe.
Here's my poem:
WALLPAPER
White screen bent out to let flies
mosey in. You are not my boyfriend
just because of this, it is random
and without emotion.
If I’m not going to throw
gold candy wrappers into the plastic
trash can, the least I can do
is throw them somewhere.
If I was a fly on the wall,
I’d know what to put on my resume.
This experience, this pain,
would only float briefly in my stupidity.
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