Spilling my secrets,
Like a bulging mass of organs,
Erupting out sides of slain monster.
Stinking.
Poisonous.
Fine.
Morsel.
Close your eyes for 5 seconds,
Then open them:
Sometimes I capitalize things,
To leave messages for my future selves.
Now.
Not Now.
Maybe a Poem Title.
Perhaps another Secret.
To Leave Messages For My Future Selves.
