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The Opposite of Actuate MAG
Ink mingles with paper,
Throwing the words I keep locked away
In the faces of complete strangers
In the minds of innocent bystanders
Poorly written formations
Scream the words I am too cowardly to speak,
Spill the soul secrets of
A sad version for a so-called poet
Accumulated stacks of hate written pain
Reek of dismantled lives,
Worlds torn down with sorrowful scripts about
Carnaged hopes and corroded roads
I spit these words with animosity
To the world beyond me,
I extrude these words about all the lies
I thought were truths
I try to convince myself
That I mean more than
A dark shadow and shattered soul
But the truth is plain to see,
With each vehement verse, crumbling phrase, falling word,
All I've ever done is diminish another promising world.
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"Write drunk; edit sober." Ernest Hemingway