Human Notes
I know not
what I wish
To propound. . .
Bereft of acuity,
I resort to clandestine methodologies —
Succoring a facade of intellectualism
Via artificial erudition.
A fraudulent soul —
Must I remain so pitiable?
Or might I appeal to your greater virtues,
Effecting an air of. . .
Of what?
I know not —
Without a repository of vocabulary
Neatly organized
At the fore of my mind,
I cannot speak —
my worth is, thus,
Infinitesimal.
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I cannot help
but recycle the
thoughts, syntax, rhetorical constructions
I have already
employed
with regularity
because of how
Pathetic
I am.
Even this message
is rife with
Redundancy. . .
I must apologize
I failed to meet
your —
no, my —
standards for excellence.
I am all alone —
I haven’t anyone else
in whom I might confide —
So, I beseech you,
tolerate my incessant lamentations
for just a bit longer,
Lest my thoughts
And the paper on which they come alive
Become my only friends.





