Of this game we play online
where each poison well of ink
slowly draws up their electric plunger
to dispense the wrath of our collective
withheld guilt and shame at all the love
spilled and recriminations bound in an
uptight leather jacketed book you can
only read after having charged the batteries.
No books are about retaining the message intact
they're bound as a vessel having captured
the intent to strike back at any calamity
thought up or distilled in the pristine
reservoirs of refreshing wellsprings
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Anything you say here is virtually impossible. You must write it in a language the computer understands. If it's not Spanish or English, I'll copy and paste it into google translate. If you're a robot and managed to get past the Captcha, good for you. As long as you're an interesting robot or nice one, you can stay. But if you exhibit any of the traits of certain online trolls who pimp sunglasses (for instance) you are not welcome here regardless of your sex or species.