the instantaneous yet short-lived
placebo effect
of this painkiller faded
years ago when I swallowed it

and ever since I’ve been waiting

for a little appeasement
I don’t discriminate

make it real like the vein
I traced here

or make it imagined
like the love within

Since I started this blog in January, I’ve averaged about one poem a week. I don’t write enough.
Across the board, people (including myself) don’t incorporate art enough into their lives. It carries with it this esoteric air, this backdrop of polarization, and people fear what they don’t understand.
From a fellow anonymous Internet poet: “when you die, no one is going to look at your hard drive. staple your poems to phone polls, wherever you go.”