I think magazines and newspapers are due for a comeback.
— Read on www.patreon.com/posts/55700645
I don’t give a shit
what people think of me.
That’s not a very poetic way to put it.
But it’s the truth.
I don’t care that you judge me.
I don’t care that you have opinions of me,
or hot takes or criticisms.
I don’t care that you gossip about me
or tease me or mock me when I’m not around
to defend myself.
I don’t care that my poetry
isn’t “for everyone.”
I don’t care if you hate me, or my words
or my work.
I don’t care if you attack me,
I’ve been through it all before,
and I still don’t care.
I care so little
that I wrote a whole damn poem about it.
I’m weary, but I can’t rest.
I can’t sleep on an empty belly.
I can’t relax when I haven’t earned it.
I can’t slow down, until the world
stops burning down.
I can’t breath, until everyone can breath,
and not just breath but breath deeply
I’m weary, so weary,
but I can’t rest.