Poetry
Every Headline Is Wrong
And now I can breathe

Words dropped from the left, to right, one at a time; sovereign toads, mighty unoriginal— no matter ‘thout the lime.
The abandonment of a personal trend ensues un-eternally. Is it ego which drives me to worry that I’ve ruined another life?
Each should recognize their influence to destroy, if only to revel in their might on enacting peace; we have one, two— three line — fuckin’ — bees.
It was never meant to work; I’ve now spooked another shoe.
And if we asked Supreme Reason?
I honestly never knew.
Rice cakes dictate corn laws; take it to the bank.
You run in smooth lines, only jagged for the races at night— four lines are to cake as— no.
Four lines—
It wasn’t going anywhere.
Have— have I accused you of jaggedness?
I won’t make the obvious joke.
Unless—
Mick Jagg-edness.
Please— just stop.
About the Author:
🔍 ㅤGustave Deresse Is a Canadian Writer, Editor, Roamer & Musical Artist Exploring Themes as Spirituality, Logic, Love, Life, Technology, Philosophy, Nature, Art, Neurocognitive Psychology, Creativity, Writing, Humour, Inspiration, Music, Well-being — and the Weird.
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I appreciate you, take care.


Sincerely, — G






