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Download digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self

To see digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self in action, download it by clicking the link below:

download digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self

Last updated January 1, 2023 (zipped size: 928 KB. Unzipped size: 3.68 MB.)

Download Note 1: When you try to download digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self, your browser may give you a message that says that the file may be dangerous and asks if you want to scan it. For example, on Google Chrome, you may see the following message:



You can click Send to have Google scan the file, or you can click the arrow next to Send and then select one of the following: ScanDiscardOpen nowShow in folder, or Cancel.

Download Note 2: When you run digital foundpoem Songs of my pathetic self for the first time, you may get a message that says:

Microsoft Defender SmartScreen prevented an unrecognized app from starting.
Running this app might put your PC at risk.
More info

Click More Info and then click Run anyway.

Digital found poem has been downloaded by thousands of people for many years with no reported problems. So I’m fairly certain you won’t experience any nasty consequences by downloading this app.

Note: I update digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self at least once a month, usually on the 1st. Each update adds hundreds of new pieces of language, removes piece of languages that aren’t working very well, and corrects textual errors. So if you use digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self regularly, don’t forget to update it every few months or so, so you get the full benefit of what digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self has to offer.

Contact me

If you have a question or suggestion about digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self, please feel free to email me, rio jansen at rio_jansen@hotmail.com.

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Digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self

Digital found poem is a downloadable random poetry generator that combines tens of thousands of pieces of language into an infinite variety of five-stanza poems you can use to create poems of your own.

For download info, see Download digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self

Important:  To run digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self, your computer must be able to run Windows. Digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self doesn’t work on cell phones. And it works on Mac and other operating system devices only if they can also run Windows.

Unlike most other online poetry generators, which avoid all the hard work of seeding the programs by simply grabbing language, unfiltered, from existing web sources, the words/phrases/clauses in digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self are added one by one by hand. It’s this herculean task of seeding the program with carefully chosen language and then the meticulous controlling of the flow of the language into meaningful stanzas that makes these randomly generated e-poems quite readable, especially when they’re read out loud so both eyes and ears can participate, and when they’re read continuously, screen after screen, as sort of an ongoing postmodern “Song of my (pathetic) self” experience. To get a sense of this experience, see 25 examples of digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self examples.

Note Digital found poem doesn’t use artificial intelligence (AI) to generate its poems. If you want to see poems generated by AI, link to the recently publicly released ChatGPT.

To use ChatGPT, you have to create a free account. Once you have an account and sign in, click Try CHATGPT and then use the chat window to ask the bot to create any poem you want. For example, you can ask it to “write a poem using the words ‘man, woman, and child,'” or ask it to “write an existential poem imitating Wallace Stevens in free verse,” or “write a sonnet à la Shakespeare about ‘beauty and happiness,'” or anything else. It’s fun to do, I admit, but I think you might just agree that, even though you can’t influence the kinds of poems digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self generates, its poems are a bit more poetic than the ones that ChatGPT generates. That may change, of course, over the years, as AI gets better and better every day.

Digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self is an extremely simple, single-file text editor (think Windows Notepad) that won’t add cookies, mess with your registry, or collect any personal information. If you download it and it’s not to your liking, you can delete it in one second with a single click.

To see what the user-interface of digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self looks like, what the generated poems look like, and the editing capabilities included, watch this 3-minute video.

Using digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self in the classroom

Note: Although digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self doesn’t contain “four-letter” words, it’s intended for a mature audience. Its dark and adult themes make it inappropriate for those too young for all that misery.

If you’re a poetry teacher and are looking for a way to spice up your poetry writing class or workshop, digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self may be of help. Let students play with the found poems, shaping and molding words and lines that they see poetic potential in and discarding the rest. (Think cut ups, erasure poems, blackout/redacted poems, found poems, and so on.)* For a beginning poet, a few minutes of tinkering with text provided may be a more enjoyable and productive way to start each writing day than to have to stare at that proverbial blank page and hope that, somehow, the words will come.

* For an interesting take on the value of cut ups, erasures, etc, see the @heteroglossia blog entry for February 17, 2019, which (in part) says:

Cut up, erasure, projectivist, free verse — many of these forms and schools, by taking verse, lines, conceits from past works, force us to see the intertextual nature that constitutes all writing. When, say, one “cuts,” rearranges, or erases a poem to bring to light another, possible poem, one illuminates the infinite possibility of language, the infinity of language. The poem lying in wait behind (or above, or to the left or right of) the poem.

Digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self is essentially just a gigantic “cut up.” But instead of cutting up a single existing work, it cuts up a huge chunk of the dictionary and of the spoken/written English language. It then rearranges the “cut up” pieces programmatically into an infinite variety of never-before-seen stanzaic text that students (or anyone else) can peruse to find/fashion new poems that may be “lying in wait behind (or above, or to the left or right of” the digitally generated text. And what they find or fashion, they may, of course, keep and call their own.

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25 digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self examples

Here are 25 examples of poems created with digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self. I did not create these poems 1-2-3 by clicking the “generate new text” button and then copying the text from 25 successive runs. Instead, I took what looked good to me in one run and then combined it with what looked good in subsequent runs until I had a five-stanza poem I thought looked pretty good. Then I went on to collect five more stanzas for the next poem, and so on, until I had 25.

Although I took liberties by selecting stanzas from multiple runs, I did not take liberties with the text. The text is 99% (or more) what digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self actually generated. (I just tweaked it ever so slightly to change a pronoun here, a conjunction there, and so on). I could’ve tried to make the poems better with more extensive revisions, of course–but that I did not do. I wanted these examples to faithfully show the text that digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self generates.

But what I did in these examples does show how I envision that digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self can be used for poetry creation — take what looks good from one or more runs, revise it as needed, and discard the rest. Or take an idea that a digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self suggests and run with it. And the hope is that digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self contains enough good text or suggests enough good ideas to get you to write some really good stuff.

If you are intrigued by these examples, and want to generate digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self on your own, click download digital found poem Songs of my pathetic self.

Examples

song of my pathetic self (1)

                                                       i                                        

                           this is a poem

     at the hour of leaving      

               a poem about our creation and our fall

      risking it all

       at the next address

                                                       ii                                        

                      what now

          now that i’ve invented facts      

                i’ve trembled all over

                    in the way

               i’ve remarked on the sum of this silence

                   puzzling over a hellish defeat

                                                       iii                                        

                             it’s all here

            the fallout of a few words      

       trying to work things out

                                                       iv                                        

                                 we’re bound by      

        these unfortunate motives

      the phony explanations

       this may not mean anything

      frailties were never like this

                                                       v

                                        these awful ultimatums

               to what good

   this epic meanness

          blind to what was going on

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (2)

                                                       i                                        

                               you ask

         can it get any lonelier

       what do you want me to say      

                    what was it all good for

                                                       ii                                        

                           i’ve calculated a gloom

           that returns      

               as we trade cold words

           our chaos is reliving the past

                                                       iii                                        

                                 if everything’s amiss

         what’s left over      

      if there’s nothing left to build upon

 why did i let it all unravel

                                                       iv                                        

                            being was never more hurtful

              than with the house for sale      

                  with the useless asking for the heartache to stop

                                                       v

                    love you said

       love is

           i don’t know

                         a display of life’s lifelessness

                on the list of who’s next

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (3)

                                                       i                                        

                                    what do i know of      

       yesterday’s hurt

                     the writer’s wicked hopes

           with love come to nothing

                                                       ii                                        

                       our love was this inescapable suffering

      our love was cheaper emotions       

       you and i were creating this fiction

              on 538th way

            in this country town

                                                       iii                                        

                  who was it that withdrew      

                     reaching beyond the way of the dead

                who endured

                 facing the wages of every day

               the same as ever

                                                       iv                                        

                    while others are going to work

             i’m exposed to this script      

              i’ve been cursed by my feeling broken

       trapped in time

                 i’ve focused on eyes full of tears

                   pointing out a biblical nonsense

                afterwards too

                                                       v

                         as always

         it’s

           the parts of us

          we failed to fix

              as always

     it’s

                 these unfortunate artifices

                   most revealingly

        having lost control of the situation

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (4)

                                                       i                                        

                       there are evenings when

      a callous sky has closed in

      and      

              agony pervades

                    with no poetry

         no music

                                                       ii                                        

                             from things so delicious

           to this irrevocable pain

              from evening kisses

      to this worthless unhappiness

          how did we get here      

                                                       iii                                        

                               we’re walking on j highway

             in carlisle in the evening      

          where drunkards are mistreating everyone they encounter

     and junkies have no shame

           why did everything go so wrong you ask

         and i say who isn’t tired of the bickering

           we’re misjudging everything

                still pretending

       getting back to the same old madness

          truth be told

                                                       iv                                        

                  maybe i am waiting to be seen

      maybe i am battling      

                  as i’m eyed by the incorrigible characters on this stage

                   this isn’t me

                                                       v

                 how it will be

     is moment by moment

          standing six feet apart

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (5)

                                                       i                                        

                         of what use      

       these ready-made impulses

             the dark possibilities

            living like this

                                                       ii                                        

                               a sunflower in a vase      

           these desperate excuses

              more twisted figures

        as a bus leaves for san gabriel

                   the enemy can’t be seen

                                                       iii                                        

                                     who is it that’s trying to earn a living  

            who is it that disagrees with everything

        in the crucial passage

   you are missing something

              again

          imagining the hurt of twilight

                                                       iv                                        

                             on a day just like this

             chagall might’ve stressed a dark aching

               as the sun slipped behind the mountains

               he might’ve faltered   

       as of old

                  getting back to the relics of a horrible humor

         in strange basements

                                                       v

                               we teach each other

       thursday’s gloominess

                   trying to live with the anguish of heaven

                 near the docks

          crossing new london square northwest

              running against the clock

                  on the way to the grave

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (6)

                                                       i                                        

                    so be alone at a table for two if you want

      and be that woman on the bus      

            you are yearning for oblivion

                    at a loss about us

                                                       ii                                        

                                      look how entirely irritable we are

                we who’ve spoiled everything      

      repeating the same things over and over

                 we who’ve felt sorry

             as predictable as this obscene chaos

                                                       iii                                        

                 a piece of a worthless misconception

                has continued      

           a surplus of absence

      touches me

           that’s the nature of things

                     there’s always hell to pay

                                                       iv                                        

              it’s not a question of waging war on all fronts

   nor a question of trying to measure up      

       a rotten equivocation doesn’t care

                                                       v

             i’m hurting myself

   as clouds drift to the north

 fear is all that’s left

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (7)

                                                       i                                        

                    so what if hades gasps

      so what if the shops close      

              the craziness lies in wait

           taking up space

        down in the underworld

                                                       ii                                        

                           who knows the truth of      

           these unfortunate epiphanies

       a god-awful doom

                     the weight of the inescapable suffering

      doesn’t matter much

                                                       iii                                        

                          mine is an intense melancholy    

               going through the motions

      in my emerald imagination

                                                       iv                                        

                              i’m finding myself screwing things up    

        provoked by this savage gloom

           i’m seeking what will suffice

                                                       v

                            this madness

        does what it can

                in any case

                    to the sound of a closing door

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (8)

                                                       i                                        

                            anyway

               the ending never mattered      

           anyway

                it’s all happened a million times before

            i’ve stood in a doorway

                   in a big way

        i’ve been unsure of what should’ve gone where

            out of necessity

               in a rabbit hole

                                                       ii                                        

                 just like us

          the dead have screwed up      

                 mentioning rehashed neuroses

                  seeing past iciest propositions

                   as the crimson leaves begin to fall

       they consider their rehashed provocations

                     faced with the facts of what went wrong

                                                       iii                                        

                           everything i’ve dealt with

       begs to differ      

               as words stream by

                fear is cruel

                                                       iv                                        

                           why am i understanding nothing      

                 why am i living on empty

                                                       v

                         what it’s worth

              has gone on forever

                 grappling with a catalogue of a painful isolation

          surrounded by red forget-me-nots

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (9)

                                                       i                                        

                               here we are

             roaming the streets alone      

                 turn after turn

          in any case

                we’re pointing out matters of religion

                 asking a thousand questions

                                                       ii                                        

                      you may think

 i’m kind of blue      

                     awake to this endless trouble

                     without all the pleasures of the evening

        without the sweetness of love

                  and that’s okay

                   but know i’m just taking aim

                 connecting the dots

                    in unsettling basements

                                                       iii                                        

                                  who doesn’t make do with this looking-glass oblivion

               who doesn’t underscore these worn out odds and ends      

                                                       iv                                        

                               did we expect to be this sad

           is this really what we expected      

       nobody’s here anymore

                                                       v

                 it is agony that is raising hell

                everybody knows it

               at intervals

      i don’t recognize myself anymore

 as black holes feed on distant stars

              it’s all happened a million times before

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (10)

                                                       i                                        

                          it’s always like this

               it’s all a blur      

               this is nothing

              that hasn’t been said before

           the failure laughs at us

           asking nothing anymore

          sure enough

                                                       ii                                        

                               isn’t it always like this

        who’s to blame      

                  the absurdity is urged on

                                                       iii                                        

           this is about the hell we live in

               this is about a broken belief      

                i’ve been cursed by what we did and did not do

           unsure of what’s about to happen

                                                       iv                                        

                so it never ends      

          friendship by itself is seldom enough

                     life will go on

                     it all seems so crazy

                                                       v

                        remnants of everything

      at a table for three

       your ifs and buts

       waiting for better days

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (11)

                                                       i                                        

              when the wounded die

   it’s unbelievable      

               the world we knew is gone

                                                       ii                                        

                      maybe i’m in danger

        maybe i’m entangled in dead ends

                 going beyond this new-made loneliness

            by trial and error

                                                       iii                                        

                  someone’s phone is ringing

   who knows what’ll happen      

           did i say that i loved you

      where’s the little girl with her american doll

              i’m hiding away

               i’m losing everybody

                                                       iv                                        

                           what was it you said

     a car backfires      

       the graceless gypsy kings laugh at us

           it’s no lie

                                                       v

                    running off

            by the old church

        in this discernable grief

               the sequence of things

              as it continues to rain

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (12)

                                                       i                                        

                           i tell myself not to care

               as everything becomes more pointless     

                  sicklier performances

      as the sun sets over the violet sea

                                                       ii                                        

                                i am myself      

                     faced with nothing but uncertainty

        i am rethinking the stop signs

          second-guessing everything

                                                       iii                                        

                                    by stir crazy

          i see you talking to francisco

        are we the fools who did this      

           who knows what i am dreaming

                                                       iv                                        

                             repeat after me

            there is no second chance

         there is no second chance      

                 with a worthless accent

              before the whole world

            reality has gotten the better of me

               navigating these biblical hang-ups

                    as people come home from work

                                                       v

                                   botching life up

                living like this

                there’s always failure to account for

         no one seems to understand

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (13)

                                                       i                                        

                       there might have been too

                for no particular purpose

             in the company of the snowman  

      these childish vices

       these dual identities

       as i’m forced to take vicodin for tmj

          they swear that it’s so

                                                       ii                                        

                                    what it all meant

  who knows     

       the entrepreneur of intent sits down to dinner

           burdened with all those little white lies

                                                       iii                                        

                                 you’re the amorist they say

             and i’m      

        the dimensions of loneliness

             lying awake

                                                       iv                                        

                         the making of grief

     perchance

         won’t let it lie      

                 for no cause

                    in a house full of

              beggars

                                                       v

                                      the melancholy

         of living

                for the most part

                it wasn’t supposed to come to this

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (14)

                                                       i                                        

                              i longed for you again today

             i found myself at war with myself      

                   imagining the infinite excesses

           i was 

              discouraged by what happened yesterday

                    far from the limelight

        in this tiresome stillness

                                                       ii                                        

                                     here i am

            a world apart

                here i am

 just scraping by      

           as time stands still

                     i am charting these patterns repeating themselves

                                                       iii                                        

                 how exhausting it all is

     this violent agony

        these nasty details

        so never-ending      

                                                       iv                                        

                            why didn’t i see this coming

             and

   how did i end up here again

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (15)

                                                       i                                        

                       i’ve learn to see through      

             the whole of being

            the despair

            of all that is

          in fragments

       the anatomy of the craziness of the night

        it doesn’t matter

           it is often so

                                                       ii                                        

                           between the art of misery      

                 and the grief of these ill winds

           frustration is dreadful

                 twisting and turning

          like so many other things

                                                       iii                                        

                        tonight i too can write the saddest lines      

             i too have detailed the failure of existence

       aging poorly

                                                       iv                                        

           as the radio plays starsailor

 i’ve served my time      

                    an uncensored fiction

                   on the heels of these sadder headlines

                i gather

                                                       v

                      lavender

          and slow

        the disappointment slips in unseen

                   mixing water with the wine

                falling into the gutter

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (16)

                                                       i                                        

                             there will be someone

              starring in barefoot in the park

             and there will be someone

             stepping on toes      

                     making do with darker messages

       taking measure of these unkind suggestions

              in the ghostly light

                                                       ii                                        

                       i’m stuck in the past

 i’m beyond understanding      

          struck by the narrative of what’s left to come

                                                       iii                                        

                  these ghostly imaginings      

                 the way you’re supposed to be

            giving voice to the chaos of the night

            with this cosmic crying

                  under this yellowish light

                     the whole world is in trouble

                                                       iv                                        

                       i think of each of our days together

            dearie      

               i’ve survived things beyond my understanding

           i am with half a heart

      acting on imperfect evidence

       dearie

          confirming these unfortunate choices

                                                       v

                      is it always this confusing

   what story should i tell

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (17)

                                                       i                                        

                                    it’s the darkness of the sky 

       it’s the child inside

           as the agony resumes

                 time sits quite still

                                                       ii                                        

                          i’ve been dragged along by the dissolution of a deadly jealousy      

                    the unfathomable

                    without self-worth

                  in the last light

                                                       iii                                        

out on the town with friends

        we are the cause of this drama  

            we sit without speaking

              in this part of the play

       you are lights out

                 and i’m wishing not to hurt anymore

                                                       iv                                        

             tell me

  what led us to this point my sweets

               what led us to this point     

      i’m trying to keep from breaking

                 on the drive back to brunswick

           pondering the specifics of what this all adds up to

                                                       v

                                      evidence of human existence

                outlined in chalk

                the relics of the moon

              in a whisper

     as you turn up scouting for girls

            on the radio

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (18)

                                                       i                                        

                                   tell me

            did i say that i loved you my pretty boy

            did i say that i loved you     

          i’m crossing a line

                     i’m saying goodbye

          without conclusion

                by the light of day

                                                       ii                                        

                        oh to be the best at breaking down

                to harp on   

                the despair

         of nothing

               the stinging of longing

                for other people

                                                       iii                                        

                                   that detached wanderer deceit

             did laugh at amour through doors not meant for us     

      i’ve disclosed the way there

                     in no small measure

                     i’ve described our creation and our fall

      the same as ever

               bit by bit

                                                       iv                                        

                       what it feels like is      

              these old-world improprieties

                stuck here

                  crying and carrying on

                                                       v

                                  the dailiness of our disintegration

          on an altered course

     earlier nightmares

     in every act

              as jackhammers shake the earth around us

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (19)

                                                       i                                        

                                 is this what you wanted    

              the earth’s mad existence

                 the misery

                of this place

          slouching against a wall

       in an insane drama

          on the plains of waterloo

                                                       ii                                        

           i’ve been confronted by these awful complications     

        the ingredients of meaning

                     carlisle’s wicked necessities

                in a catalogue of bedeviling impossibility

            exactly as before

                                                       iii                                        

                        i’m in jeopardy

               in light of substantial intrigues 

       the making of afternoon

                sounding out these ongoing inconsistencies

                                                       iv                                        

                    these are the days of

      blowing up      

                 the days of all-consuming fear

              as a shrill siren wails

                   the destitute poets laugh at us

                                                       v

                    the parts of the alternatives

 in this plot

       these strange choices

  without fail

      as the actors take their places

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (20)

                                                       i                                        

                       why do we do this      

      turning away from the goings-on of world

      we are all asleep

                  on i-48

                   good grief

                                                       ii                                        

                                    i’m not sure of what the point is     

            puzzling over these iciest fears

      panicking about everything

                                                       iii                                        

                              what caused  

      these defective parts

            in one way or another

                     it’s best not to think about this too much

                                                       iv                                        

                              as the audience looks on     

           as forests are burning all around us

      nobody cares

                                                       v

                                       just another word

              for the time being

 ugliest emotions

       with no one understanding

              as a guy decides to drop dead

                    across the street from the doctor’s office

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (21) 

                                                       i                                        

                                         inbox full of     

                these shameful decrees

               the gloomiest outcome

       as we forget how it was

        everything is as it was

                                                       ii                                        

                        poets in search of anguish

                 review separation      

                musing about the randomness of every day

                                                       iii                                        

                         these outworn digressions

          maybe

        the moody dialogues

        with a new storm brewing

   as uncertainty waits and watches

                                                       iv                                        

                                   cold shoulders

              line after line

          a thought of what’s about to happen     

                                                       v

                              the toxic flaws

      now and then

            a colorless chaos

 in shady backrooms

            it’s not lost on anyone

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (22)

                                                       i                                        

                     i know how it feels to be

      itemized

          know what it’s like to be

      sold short      

                   i’ve been dispirited by a lonely routine

                  i’ve been forever null and void

                                                       ii                                        

                            all day

   a rehash of what life didn’t offer      

                   unceasing sentences

                   a little at a time

                                                       iii                                        

                                       in the dead of autumn

           the memory of what awaits      

                   the outlines of this day

          at midnight in the garden

              with nothing more that could be done

                                                       iv                                        

                 it was raining again today      

                 i was grappling with the otherness of this absurdity

         and you

                  you were running for cover

        under a moon so fatal

                                                       v

and am i darker than this seraph

            am i unprepared for the disappointment of sunrise

        heartache

           in a primrose hat

 can’t be bothered

        hiding under a stone bridge

          where doom perpetuates itself

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (23)

                                                       i                                        

                  these careless quarrels

 blow by blow      

          these useless limitations

     on cue

                                                       ii                                        

                 everything judged

      everything jerked around

      hereabouts     

        everything at intervals

   everything never the same

   just as before

          as the flood waters refuse to recede

           there is no certainty

                                                       iii                                        

                      how painful everything is    

                   hurt has gotten no easier

              and

           it’s all just because

                                                       iv                                        

                                 this is the frustration

       that has set in     

               unflaggingly

             with impunity

                                                       v

                          the grief of the dark

 out of the blue

   nastier provocations

            across so many distances

     it never made sense

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (24)

                                                       i                                        

                         stepping on toes

      with a craftsman’s care      

           taking off the mask

                at the wrong time of day

                                                       ii                                        

                            it’s a woman’s lonely heart  

                  it’s the perpetual misunderstanding

          as history repeats itself

               this is what it’s like

                                                       iii                                        

                         i’m not sure of

              what will happen

   i’m not sure of      

                     how i imagined it

                   each day is the same

                 this grief has spoiled the game

                                                       iv                                        

                       as our love slips away

      the world’s gone crazy      

                   that’s what we get

                                                       v

  you get tired of it                     

    the madness the world over

           the nasty goodbyes

      in the company of swallows and foxes

    reciting fatal nursery rhymes

                                          …

song of my pathetic self (25)

                                                       i                                        

                             if i were to be treading carefully in this gaping emptiness

           if i were to be unsure of how all this happened

             would it matter      

               i am drawing wrong conclusions

           trapped in deeper differences

                                                       ii                                        

                           what ails us

         who knows      

        as the sunrise sneaks up on people sleeping in the alley

              we’re pierced by the very thing that hurt so much

                                                       iii                                        

         it all comes down to this      

      the pretense

                  the failure of everything

                     as i carry the groceries inside

             you see how people suffer

                                                       iv                                        

                         why am i telling you this

 how did we get here         

                                                       v

the anguish of the morning sun

      on this parched earth

      too many things at once

             have come undone 

                    …

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