The greats have created their works under the influence...
William S. Burroughs
Hunter S. Thompson
Edgar Allen Poe
Who am I to think I can stand amongst them with my laptop? With my spellcheck and my rewrites?
This is bullshit poetry...
Listening to Radiohead for inspiration, who am I?
Vibrating and heavy
Heart thudding with infatuation and solidarity
Alone, but shoving everyone out the fucking picture
Nose running
Surrounded by everyone I can't stand
Smelling anxiety, sneezing insecurities
Who are these people that I once loved?
Big, bad taste in my mouth
Biting my lips red with disgust
Lack of eye contact may mean you make me wrech....you do...
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