3:55 PM 4/3/2011

No what is this sickness?
What is this feeling inside?
It’s going to get me-
I want to run and hide

I can feel it eating me
Eating me
Eating me
From the inside

I cough and I sputter and I-
I can’t run away
I can’t hide
I’m going to die

My poetry is based on passing feelings, wrapped around strings of words pulled from my head. They’re usually short and they’re often quite unpredictable. I’ll usually do a bit of editing at the time I’m writing a poem, and then I won’t touch it again, won’t read it again, won’t even look for it after that. Kind of like a sneeze. An emotional … sneeze. Not exactly a purging so much as an expulsion. Uh, yeah.