When did I lose my common writing?
Where are the hands that journaled everyday
pouring words onto paper
straight from neurons to pen.
With little thought that just got the point out.
Not just piles
upon piles
of prose.
Am I a cliche now?
Should I care?

________________________________

please
show me
something

truth
or life
or
lack there of

_________________________________

i’m not
just
a vessel
for any
one
thing

i am all things
and nothing

__________________________________

what am i doing

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