Feels mangled. It was at first an attempt towards lighter poetry, something not so depressive or dark. I was also aiming for something that was more fictional and far away from the feel of my usual thinking. As always, this experiment started out not too bad, then as my unhappiness grew with how it was coming along - beats, measures and impact - the words changed for purposes of truth and flow while the slippery slope of my less than joyful baseline drove it into a mineshaft.
Now I'm happy.
Speedy ends, if there is any mercy.
Many thanks for commenting.
It was at first an attempt towards lighter poetry,
something not so depressive or dark.
I was also aiming for something that was more fictional and far away from the feel of my usual thinking.
As always, this experiment started out not too bad,
then as my unhappiness grew with how it was coming along - beats, measures and impact -
the words changed for purposes of truth and flow
while the slippery slope of my less than joyful baseline drove it into a mineshaft.
Surely you were not counting beats? Please say it ain't so.
There is no book on THAT shit.
I'm just sayin.