shittier things have happened
if not, will.
so i'll write every piece of it,
in short, poetic-like words
just to sum up the whole story:
the characters, the details, the spaces in between -
all written down, and if you missed it,
turn the page back again -
(only if it's your desire.)
open-journal is my jumbled-up thoughts
now clashed with your own.
my diary, in your hands.
congratulation, this is page eighteen -
are you still not tired?
no, not a poet. but if you pretend this open-journal does not have an owner,
i can pretend we're more than what we're really worth.