I ate my poem very late last night
We got into a vicious fight
It tasted wasted stunken drunken
Then I lumbered then I slumbered long I slept and loud I wept
At once I was awakened and once again mistaken
To try and sit and try and write about the poem I ate last night
Because my thoughts could not agree-did I eat the poem, or did the poem eat me?
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Poetry