The 67th slot of poetry now. I need to change this shit. This has become processed. I’ve forsaken my creative risk for progress. Mother fuck that. I must shake the dice and throw.. Let the numbers glide against the table. No more poetry. Now I will create a body of fantasy work. I will abnormally add to my count of poetry, but I feel this has become an exercise of my potential, rather than my skill.

I will add the first volume tonight. I need something new to get excited over. So do you.. Find it.. If not here, then look elsewhere.. But find it.