Control Backspace

From some time in 2010.

Writing is a different prospect since computers became the norm. I used to write with pen and paper - and still write almost all my poetry and song lyrics using in and notebook, because using a word processor affords us the opportunity to irrevocably strike certain parts from the record. I detest the red squiggly lines under each of my intended broken spelling and grammatical rules. Sometimes the error is beautiful.

As always, spelling errors and reckless modification to the language used with artistic license.

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torn as i am between between gluttony and constriction
subliminal forces conspiringed to overcome
enchanted forests of my youth
fevered glimpses of how it could be
should be
would be
except fore's and wouldn't-if's.
a part that wants to hate it all
and a part that wants to wallow..
somewhere inbetween them
these gluttonous and constructive patterns and laces,
as tides, or the moon
waxing, and waning upon my consciousness..
wait, what was i talking about?
sardonic even in mine prose.
is this all that remains?
these fragmented thoughts.
ctrl-shift-arrow
ctrl-c,
ctrl-a,
ctrl-v,
these fragmented thoughts.
these.
fragmented.
things.
severed arrows, angles of past thinkings.
deliberately obtuse, delivering the muse.
if it rhymes i can get away
with it 
if i am being sardonic.
ctrl-t, ctrl-l, "definition: sardonic"
maybe i can get away with it.
if i can resist the urge to edit thee inline.

strokes of the pen were written in stone,
existing even whence scratched out.
unlike these lines, these disgustingly rhymes
which echo from the past, known to no one.
amongst my'ne
who among them can handle
my fragmented thoughts
or even myself
who in these ruins, and lies:
broken, alive, yet somewhat shattered..
nevermind.
ctrl-a
backspace.

torn as i am between gluttony and reason.
i am what i be, and what i be is displaced.