09. Mashed Potatoes

I want to make a goddamnn wonder of a verse
But my rhymes are all shitfaced today
Never been so fucking worse
Never been so fucking okay
In between indifference
In a different in-between
No muse, no bells
No use for them inkwells
My prose petals are piss, either
Head to toe under the weather
Perhaps I should call a doctor
“We’re sick,” said my linguistic motors
Or maybe it’s just all in my lazy head
I’m selfishly tired and I want my bed.

Vivien Marie Lopez

NaPoWriMo Day 9

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