Oh, poetry sucks. I hate it. If I could write some cheery Northwesty poetry about driftwood and unicorns, I know I would feel better. I'm wearing a purple shirt that I actually ironed. I don't know what possessed me. To iron. I think I am avoiding writing poetry. Because I hate it. It crawls into my brain and I say terrible things, not nice things at all, like I was raised. Bad girl, bad girl.