ill
write a run-on sentence about how this stalin’esque paranoia about my love life is slowly taking over my mind and did you see those planes the other day that i dont look for any more cus it doesnt feel right cus they all just remind me of you and why did you have to screw this up for me why did i let you,
sp        a   ce        ou       t        sent     en    ce      s,
bold a few words,
   make a
  not
     at all
   interesting
      structure
and call myself a poet.
when all i want to do is stop writing about
you.