Thursday, February 14, 2008

Really Bad Poetry and Getting Worse Every Day-6th revision

My beloved, with great precision in wording, remitted to me a missive
I prayed it was to give me a decision and it be neither dismissive nor derisive.
Holding that page he had touched, reading it, again, hoping against hope, but
my heart, my soul, my infinite infinitesimal being, all those he had cut
It was sincerely antithetical to me, all the quick and the sloe
was I merely parenthetical? Nothing? I have nowhere to go
but up. O! I cannot bear it. I am rent from inside out. Down is so very very far.
The queen of hearts cries, Off with her head, rip out her soul. The elevator car
stops at the bottom, at the open maw of the shaft.
Crawling out, I climb aboard the terrible, waiting raft,
Holding my eroded dreams in my trembling hands. On a sea of molasses, we drift away
Those dreams drip from my fingers as tears drip from my eyes. O! horrid selfsame day.
I, upon my raft, float along the bubbling, rancid, foul-smelling Styx.
Care I a whit or a ha-penny? Nay. It is a far better thing I do. My life is nix.
I am a rotting corpse now, you see
It’s the only way. It’s what had to be
because my beloved, oh my darling, my best and only beloved sent me a letter.
And the letter was ‘no.’

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