damik's Diaryland Diary

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It's just not right.

It's just wrong I tell you, sick, sick and wrong. It's like if you have a crush on your father you don't tell anyone, cause it's not right, it's just not right.
I shouldn't even be posting this, I should just rip the pages out of my notebook and eat them. I disturb myself.
Like always it all started innocently enough.
I should never try to force myself to write poetry when I'm tired, it just turns out wierd. Mental note find out if anything rymes with truth becides Ruth and uncouth. Oh and tooth. OK, I can write when I'm sleepy as long as I don't worry about meter or ryme. And no lymirics after midnight. They just never end up bawdy enough.
But on to my story. It all started at 1:00 I had just finished a poem that I thought had turned out pretty good and decided to browse some of my older writings. I came acrossed a pantoam that I hadn't finished and decided to take a stab at fininshing it. I guess the first time I was writing it I had decided I would be terribly clever if I rymed the first and last lines of the four line stanzas. I was going along swimmingly when I got stuck on the word true.
The line was as follows.
Just let me see in true
The path that I may tread
As one who always tries
And then I needed to come up with the last line that rymed with true. But all I could come up with is "To eat my Elmer's glue" So I abandoned the poem. Tried to come up with other words that rymed with true, and get my mind off the bump.
If you want to read the disturbing results go here but remember you were warned.
*clicks tounge and sadly shakes head*
It's just wrong.

1:37 p.m. - 11-24-02
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