By: Katie M. Moss
April 28, 2010
This is another piece of love-struck poetry brought about by rapid change.
This is the feelings I relate within my own grey walls of space.
This is today, tomorrow, and next year.
This is more the instant. This is modern language.
This is a type 2 personality profile of a no-good-very-bad day.
This is a gift of pure hack and bullshit poetics covered in grimy mis-matched fuzzy socks.
This is the now. This is rhetoric slime and run-of-the-mill modern style.
This is life. This is a toast to the good, the bad, and the static in-between.
This is to moving on. This is to the fuzzy-headed feeling your dryer sheets bring.
This is monumental, unchanging, unfeeling, and uncertain.
This is you.
This is me.
This is the neighbor in my basement who verbally abuses his spouse.
This is my friend with an eating disorder.
This is to the beginnings of addiction.
This is to long nights.
This is to thinking you're unique when there are millions of others just like you.
This is for humanity.
This is giving a shit.
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