The Forgotten Poems

I'm in that dark poet mood of mine where I want to dress in black, sit with my knees pulled against my chest, and press my mouth to a white rose and just think and be sad.

For no reason.

And I want to take pictures of myself, black and white, as this personage and post them all over the place and point at them and make you stare at them.

For no reason.

And I want you to take this rose and press the thorns under my eye until my tears mix with blood and streak down my cheek.

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