I just found a poem I wrote black out drunk on my typewriter. I think it's about reddit.

There's stuff in me that keeps me going.

It unravels to the downwards sometimes

the bottom falls out like a badly designed piece of childhood felt art

the crayons point down

it lightly goes dark

the arrows down all the way

but not that deeply.

Sometimes they go the other way

they look up

and through the smog freedom is tastable

palatable as an orange kite or a boat on a lake

sometimes it's not so bad

this life dancing in front of Mrs. Death

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