Ditches

so here’s something I think of alot and I can’t write it in prose like I’m sure that I aught so a poem will have to suffice for these ideas in my head which create so much dread that I want to just throw them away. So I’ve been told by more than a few that my neurotransmitters are missing a few or missing some glue maybe a group of them contracted the flu…the neural pathways I’ve built are more like ditches, all deep as fuck and nothing but bitches and sluts and whores who like to slam doors and they all like to drive this excavator in my mind making deeper ditches so deep I can’t find any way to fill them today.

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