Buoy Don’t Float

I had trouble sleeping so I tried my hand at poetry last night.

After two hours, heres what I got:

come along now
its different
this time both hands
you tell me with mine in yours

hope stops growing
even at the start
you put me down
at the time i couldnt speak

It’s pretty hilarious, I think. Me sitting there, looking constipated, as I try to conjure up all the bad thoughts recently for inspiration. I always knew I was picky with words. In fact, I thought I had a knack for choosing good words in my speech. This poem–if you consider it so–isn’t a great example. So wait for more to come.