New poem I wrote on my phone on a bus last week.
"ourselves"
book of my life
there have been valuable contributors
fuck the poetry
there are those i could have done without
ah but you don't mean that
i mean every word i
say
you should not believe a word i say
base ideas come from instincts
we should not struggle to be higher, we should obey
oh, but this is foolish, this is nuisance
i clutter, or i ember
i brave or i fade
i encumber
aloof, freedom from oblivion
a loss for words, not for thoughts
we look forward
we soothe to be happy
fraught dissipates
ourselves, just ourselves