Do the streams of thought
that I produce
leech toxins into my body?
Have I sprayed my fields
with defoliant
so that there is nothing
left to turn sunlight into life?
What I produce in my head
has come downstream to
taint the well. Manufacturer
of my own undoing.
I feel so unwell
because I feel so bad.
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Feel free to critique the poetry. I employ a sophisticated thick hide technology.