The Pointlessness of Poetry

Cynicism is my new addiction, fuck it load me up-
Give me one more hit of bitter, god I’ve missed this high
Jesus I feel low
I embrace my futility and never look for meaning
Dismissing true connection for my own self-hating
And books that will never love me back – not I believe in constructs like that
Philosophy can hold me tight, never sleeping during nights
Tired eyes – coffee; chai
Pretentious a defence mechanism –
A writer with no books –
Because if I tried I must just fail
And that scares me too much.

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