Poetry makes me happy in a way prose doesn't. Why why why why can't I spend the rest of my life writing shitty poems and reading really good ones and writing poems with other people and painting pictures and knitting things? I'm so tired of money. It ruins lives. I'm really broke and I don't care about that, but sometime in the future it's going to matter because I won't be able to eat or live or get any of the things I need, but I want to do productive things that make no money all the time. I wish I wanted to be in business and wear silly suits and high heeled shoes that made nice noises on the floor and date men with lots of money and no feelings who hung mass produced art on the walls and everything they owned was made of metal.