for convenience.
Language like junk food
recycled into the lines
of a billion bad poems,
ten-thousand novels &
hundreds of short
stories.
They drip across the page
besmirching it with
every letter
and infecting
every eye that
dares lay upon it.
Where is the cure for
this modern malady?
Not in these words, not
in these lines. Somewhere
we've never been to, will never
live to see.
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