I wish I’d never let you read any of the stories in my draft book Since I always knew you’d just skim through those pages ( Lousy reader that you were— now, your time, pronto! to get back to school ) This is a book that will never get published Too bad you trashed the draft upon first reading Too good you’ll never ever get to read the end, One so tenderly written in my doctor’s handwriting - undecipherable, for my Failed R e a d er E x t r a o r d i n a i r e
You can read it here:
With this poem I wanted to pay homage to poetic and fictional works—as they become safe spaces where writers and readers alike can fulfil their desires, and ultimately enact their true identities.
Through the act of reading literary works, we can get a glimpse of these dreams and desires, and of all those perhaps idealised versions of ourselves (writers) in relation to others (readers).
Feel free to like the poem on the Spillwords page if you feel so inclined 🤍.
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Thank you SO MUCH for reading, liking, and commenting on my posts. I couldn’t be happier to have fellow bloggers enjoy my writing 🖤.
i see myself poetry bare naked just reflected in your half broken m i r r o r while taking a sip out of your nearly empty bottle of dry w i t can you see us— or at least can you remember what we used to look l i k e in that, our world of alternate rhymes and fancy w o r d p l a y s worlds now dissolved into thin air, for readers to imagine— But never r e a d i see us poetry bare naked just reflected into that half-broken mirror a sip out of our nearly empty rhyming bottle of dry g i n
the door wide open s a l o o n style i load my gun i fake a smile and take a sip of some old w i n e and on my way i turn around i catch a glimpse of something tragic a little spy tearing through my old blue d i a r y (beware those loaded verses) like the b a n d i d reader that you are