Bus engine rumble,
rejection letters should
just read no or yes,
I don't have time to read your shit,
shitty opinion about how I should
write more depressing dark
realist shit, I have my own ideas
and rejections just prove I'm
right, don't'cha realize that's how it works,
pull around the corner, take the exit
on the right (or is it entrance, 'cause
I'm gettin' on) the journals and magazines
and publishers are always the ones behind,
struggling to catch up, leeching all the
beauty out, sucking all the colors dry
pasty white, I'm on and going man,
I don't have time for your formulaic response
I have poetry to write, I have roads to drive.
with Love forever,
Me
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