poetry by j matthew waters

internal bleeding

you can’t make this shit up
but then again you usually do

imitating the imaginary world
rotating all around

from top to bottom & side to side
leaving it like a pig sty

after saying she used to be
a paradise

when I see it
I’ll bloody fucking believe it

the inner workings eventually
have a mind of their own

and you’re forced to deal
with its consequences

becoming nothing more
than a ransom maker

the one who controls all
things mental & digital

who may very well be the last
virtual person

you’ll ever encounter

april two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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