Yawn. I’m bored. Got nothing to do. I’ve been sitting at my desk, writing poems, since morning. I edited this tiny thing a few hours ago. It’s probably not good but I like it because it contains only one sentence.
It is a dark night, and
my eyes ache—
not from the tears I’ve shed
(for out of my eyes have spilled
none)
but from the tears I’ve kept.
