It is meritocracy
It is cumbersome.
It demands too much of my blood.
I don't care about these words any more, nor does anyone.
It grinds out like shards of cheese.
I cant.
I don't want to.
All I do is whine and hurt.
Drugs are better.
...
Perhaps death has one more poem to be written on my gravestone
"Here lay pauper and a poet - he loved being nither."
