One person's filler post is another's genius time-management strategy.
CAPTION: Why did the chicken cross the road? It doesn't remember.
The best thing about poetry is that you don't have to completely make sense. Yes, "good" poems should be refined and not intentionally confusing, but one person's crystal clear is another person's fog, so why bother? I wrote this poem (as of writing) just yesterday, a nearly direct transfer of thought to page. I hope that whoever reads this can find their own meaning in my half-baked work.
your keys in the rain, misplaced
papers and shoes and thoughts
a notebook, holding onto traces of life
spread across
our fleeting memories.
Old habits wither when frost finds
its way back,
back from the grave. It creeps up
and forces you to realise:
Forgetting is a special kind of murder.
Where did our dead friends go?
-Tomatobean
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