Nights That I Don't Click Save

Nights That I Don’t Click Save

like rancid cocktails
made with shitty ingredients 
sometimes I write poems 
that I reject
I shake them 
strain them
taste them 
then pour them down the drain 
they are too bitter
too weak
too sour
or too sweet
I let their bad taste in my mouth
linger 
it'll fade

Like Brain Surgery Done With A Butter Knife

Week Won't End