Today's Poet Corner: Well, Fine, Then
Well, Fine, Then
by Belinda Roddie
Don't write about, "stuff." Don't write
about, "things." Don't write about
tentacles or the void, because you've
already written about the void, I guess,
and how its social anxiety gets in the way
of it ever staring back at you.
The moment I go from vague to Lovecraftian,
you recoil like Cthulhu's touched you
gently, caressing you until the horrors
burn in your skin like poison ivy on steroids
The moment I go from vague to stark,
you want the blind pulled again.
I mean, fuck exposure
to direct sunlight,
am I right?
by Belinda Roddie
Don't write about, "stuff." Don't write
about, "things." Don't write about
tentacles or the void, because you've
already written about the void, I guess,
and how its social anxiety gets in the way
of it ever staring back at you.
The moment I go from vague to Lovecraftian,
you recoil like Cthulhu's touched you
gently, caressing you until the horrors
burn in your skin like poison ivy on steroids
The moment I go from vague to stark,
you want the blind pulled again.
I mean, fuck exposure
to direct sunlight,
am I right?
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