bloody nose
by David X. Hugo
this was a stinging
critique on love,
and the insanity of it
or the insanity of me
and my bipolar disorder
and my anxiety
and my hatred
and how i’ve probably not trusted a soul my entire life and have subsequent problems doing so in the present or any forsee-able future,
but it ended up
dead as the leaves
replaced with something
now as i re-read it,
decidedly more dead
and probably
better.
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this was a horrible comment written by a moron
but the awkward nature of dashing hopes and dreams
the force of my underpants
being pulled from behind
was too much for me to bare.
and it ended up as a sad copying
of a poetic style instead
and much less poetic
and pretty
and sort of just lame altogether.
but i did like your poem… and the idea for it is fantastic..
i like this poem