I am writing this because today in poetry class we learnt about the construction of the identity of the poet vs. the identity of the speaker rhythm line breaks punctuation placement of ideas within the nooks and crannies of stanzas beat beats we listened to Drake Kanye Eminem and Sarah Jones who once stood in front of a microphone and spat our her heart your revolution will not happen between these thighs your revolution will not happen between these thighs flipping off the patriarchal system douches with dicks all at the same time it was nice I think penis and blow jobs aren’t always vulgar things to craft into hymns when you know how to do it with flair I choose to write this in a stream of consciousness style because I have lost my voice I think I have lost my voice in becoming a better human being I have become less of an artist today somebody brought up an interesting point we hideaway in our college dorm rooms and pen angst symphonies teeth sinking feet thudding poems about anger displacement society but where do you go where do you turn when you’ve let everything out the anger dissipates bleed wells dry and you are left with a blank slate perhaps the answer lies in persona poems grounding your thoughts in the mind of another filter another dimension old man ages creatures yes I find great inspiration in the elderly apricot mouths wrinkles trembling hands you would think they were on some kind of a meth kick high but really this is the sign that comes before the going the great departure the goodbye.
