Self/Loathing/Others

The clicking of my keyboard,
Draws formless thoughts on blank screens,
My vacuous imaginings growing leaden,
While rose-tinted dreams drip drip bleed.

To think once these hands,
Held yours and satisfaction both,
But now make vapid commentary,
On loves lost,
For idiot strangers to gape at,
And simpering fools to sniffle to,
While I forget forget forget,
With every stroke of the ENTER key.

I hate this fucking place,
My gallery of gilded memories,
And for you who read with delight,
I feel only black contempt,
As deep and dark as love.

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