i want to hurl my laptop like a shuriken
stick it smoking in the wall
slam my fist onto the table ‘til it cracks
pour kerosene on all my sketchbooks
light a match and watch them go
also throw my paintings on that pyre
all the time invested money spent
what a waste in the face
of this temporary tension
what a shame to have frittered
that unrequited time
fantasies misplaced
someone else’s dreams no doubt
that made their way to me
delusions of a life
it seems clear can never be
just fill my fucking casket
with paint i didn’t use
the books i'll never fill
the words i didn’t write
goodnight
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