a poem for today, 12 May 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
Little girls are told that they have nothing or a hole.
I have insanity in my entrails.
Your teen could be sex-texting right now.
And then she cut her wrists and blamed me.
I feel like the town slut on prom night.
Offend one, and you offend them all.
I wish I could friend you on aaaaarg.
She is a biological atrocity in ecstasy.
Love is a great misfortune, a monstrous parasite, a permanent state of emergency that ruins all small pleasures.
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