Call me if you are a publisher and I will see if I can mention you in my next poem
Now that I am lowered into my trench language I become an invocation. I am muscles and tendons, a pressurized blood machine, slowly releasing what was stored between the apostrophes, like a captured animal. I am a cormorant of the apocalypse, a confessing nihilist. Opinions grow on me like frozen waterfalls. My rage is inculcated, ...
Today, I received a strange visitor called nihilism. His bleak appearance and slow, decisive gait exerted a strange fascination on me, so I decided to follow him on the street after he left. I followed nihilism into an alleyway, where a beautiful woman's face smiled at me with the promise of a thousand futures, but ...
Not what you do professionally but what can entertain you defines who you are.
poem , in which a Turing machine decides if it could be part of another language along the lines of poetry