Litkicks Message Board Archive

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Posted to Action Poetry




my heart is beating
my legs are apart
the computer hums
kant wrote the critique of pure reason
locke was an empiricist
i forget exactly what that means
my brother is on steroids and is big
nothing means anything to me
i am slowly dying
and nobody has noticed
i love everybody
and do not feel sorry for myself
just unable to rouse the soul for another go.