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Depressed and Messed

I can’t control myself, I’m remote within radio range and scope but far so small and mote receiving signals through smoke directed through ash to choke seems circular nothing to note unbearably tied like a rope no baring clear to approach unaware I’m walking to croak in smoke near clifftops and slopes mind numb uncared and broke a snowball no brake to poke an inclined decline no joke with my lifeline tied I’m roped and until it ends I’m fooked

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Caren Krutsinger

Date: 5/20/2019 2:00:00 AM

Nick, it is peculiarly funny to me that that ending word you instinctively knew had to be twisted up a bit, so you cleverly and methodically centered the entire poem around it. I often begin with the "ending line" too. Good one.

Nick Trim
Date: 5/20/2019 5:21:00 PM

actually I had a different ending but then realised I could use fooked and that it was so much more power than the original line I had, which flopped, though I admit it was a joy to come across, probably wouldn't have used it had I not got used to cencoring for soup lol thanks :)

Nick Trim

Date: 5/19/2019 7:43:00 PM

I don’t know where I’m going I don’t know where I am it’s like I’m not in control there’s nothing to see or hear no prospects nor freedom it’s dangerously disastrous and the only way to break free is death.