Oh, the misinformation!
See it proliferate as it’s
poorly stuttered out the mouths
of ignorant and unaware drunks
stuck on their thirst for an explanation
or a change in their ideations,
unaware they haven’t even departed
their fragmented imaginations,
fractured psyches hounded by
I wrote her something beautiful but only had time to copy down the intro, as I left interrupted and embarrassed I wished I’d stayed because the intro was the worst part of it all and didn’t mean anything and since I couldn’t speak writing was my only chance to communicate but of course I gave up before she found me, killed my smokes and wandered then walked to the store for more, glancing at the corner after the feelings had been slightly dulled I needed to be somewhere and someone else but couldn’t escape myself.
"Where Is My Mind" by Aly Stinson
National Poetry Slam: Sierra DeMulder