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the poison ivy league

i shockingly love the poems i've been writing

if i can only make it up to 30 pages.

must get 30 pages. must ask myself why i want to get an MFA in creative writing and then must write about 300 words as gorgeously as i can stating that very reason.

oh oh oh grad school. i want you i want you. i want the school i wanted before i actually wanted it. ivy on brick buildings and girls with skirts carrying bob dylan records against their chests.

the poetry flows like wild horses running over the hills. stop me if u think u've heard that one before.

the poems, they run away like a red trans am on the new jersey turnpike.

holy shit statement of purpose. how much time do i have left before all my future ideas run out and i'm stuck being redundant for the rest of my life???

what took me so long to realize that doing the best that i can do isn't that hard or even that bad at all?? how much time grad school?? how much time do i have before you fucking reject me? then i can cry and blame myself for wearing my heart on the outside and all that.??

oh wait, that wasn't a question.

1:56 a.m. - 2004-10-16

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