I am a nihilist,

nobody had to teach me
that and no men
held that void quite like
I can hold that void.  
they mocked me and I let
them; I
have a constructed reality
that surrounds me but I feel
a thirty year repression
birthing from a well
and it carries eels like
lightning, the nose of sharks;
past betrayals come next.
you like rain:
a little deluge for your
flight, I feel no obligation
to anything:
my rectitude,
our plans,

or my penciled tips
on how to revitalize
warehouse row,
I’m tired and
my want for self grows and
ends in impatient provocation,
your spiral notebook,
the bottom of the ocean.

“storm”

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