04-26-2014, 05:07 AM
I posted this poem at the same time as another poem. Both of them weren't really poems, though they are. They are poems in the sense that I presented them as if they were poems; but they're not poems, they're simply fancy displays of spite and bitterness. My aim was self-indulgent inaccessibility. After the fact, I tried to read more into them, after I'd initially distanced myself from them by carelessly throwing them together. I made a few minor changes to make them less accessible and fixed some typos. That was it. Then I got more interested in the character speaking. And that's what I care about. But what other people say about the poem as a poem makes perfect sense in the context in which it's presented. But I have no intention for this poem to make sense. It all spins on the point of saying, "That is the point." What is the point? There is no point. It's a very inspired nihilistic thing. You can say whatever you want about it or take it any way you want. I don't like the poem. It was just another point for me to spin on and from.