Shitty poetry for your entertainment.

I like living on the hill, it gives me a sense of
security like I’m up
high far away from all problems of the earth, sort of like the way the US was
founded, some idealistically holy city atop a perfect
utopian hill, that’s where I live, in a
fucking utopia where garbage receptacles
overflow and yet every day security is
promised, the world
looks better in utopian-tinted sunglasses to block the picturesque
setting sun, and it was atop this hill that my life started
rolling down and for this I
blame security, why are we
friends, why do your grins make me
vomit, why wouldn’t you ever
know, why is this whole
rant about you; I was
given five minutes, five minutes out of my entire life to
spill garbage from my mind and thus this paragraph was
constructed, but the trash bins outside my apartment were spray
painted with the words no bodies, please, and perhaps this garbage
involves no bodies, we are nobody, no bodies, just souls
floating around because according to the philosophy class we
take
together,
identity is nothing but soul, but the falsities that people
identify us for are our exterior appearances.

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