Dear Self,
I feel like
a stuffed animal-rights activist
who needs a safe word when masturbating.
*
I need a
witless-protection program
and a sign that says, ''Sorry, we're open''
to make it clear
that when the going gets tough,
nothing gets going.
*
Perhaps some
transcontinental meditation and
cross-country wrestling
would calm my nerves.
*
I enjoy
this calm babble and squonk
of cleared out thoughts...
(no animals were armed in the making of this poem,
no anime was charmed in the masking of this poem,
no Anna Mays were farmed in the marking of this pour-in...)
Yours Insincerely,
---
*
Thank you for reading!
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page. No AI. No Fake Work. It's all me...
And I did this:
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