I read recently 
some AI slop
describing my writing 
and it took 
me way back 
to high school 
when my English 
teacher embarrassed me 
in front of 
the entire class 
predicting that I 
would never be 
a good writer 
not that I 
ever wanted to 
I have learned 
that disbelief is 
a great motivator 
I have never 
written in order 
to prove anyone 
wrong but rather 
to simply breathe 
for life after 
all is all
I can share 

I picked up 
what was left
and looked decidedly 
was there any 
point of putting 
it back together 
so built anew
I decided to 
do but not 
in some ancient 
style but fresh 
and from nothing 
but now that 
it’s finally done 
I’m already thinking 
what is next 
and what if
I purposely accidentally 
tipped over the 
table top sending 
my last past
onward into oblivion 

I just can’t 
imagine anything else 
I’d enjoy more 
than sitting here 
listening and waiting 
for the first 
sounds of you 
stirring your cup 
of kitchen coffee 
and the first 
taste of sugar 
on your lips 
as they’re pressed 
sleepily against mine 

What if
everything was
the last 
would you 
cherish it
treasure it 
try to
hold on
to it 
or would 
you let 
it go 
because everything 
is that
very last 
of anything 

I once thought 
clean smelled well
clean but true 
clean as well 
as clarity and 
truth smell not 
at all whatsoever 
what does smell 
is the appearance 
of something clean 
for even truth
can hide behind 
allures seductive mask
making it the 
master of allusion