chug chug chug chug

i write in fear of being found. pour in the pan words that will never rise. recipes never work. mix it all but not too well.

twenty Russians replacing a light bulb with a vodka lamp.
i drink the vodka to confuse them. they love it, shouting my name.

i knew you could do it.

it never makes any sense, does it?

but there's a reason i'm called "perverse"
and not perseverant

i copy paste my own life,
typos and syntactical errors,
letting myself feel proudly wrong, wrongly proud,
the mirror is inside out
as i out my insights
fearing otherwise they will know
i am only as deep as the kiddie's side of the pool