smashsmashsmashsmashsmashsmashsmash

14 s's, 7 m's, a's, and h's just to title this,
47 smashes just in that first line,
Smash the keys, until they lock up
Tryin'a dress to impress,
Shittin' all over myself with the same basic colors,
Brown, orange, green, in
Clumps, balls, lincoln logs, liquid discharge,
Like a sputtery old car choking and dying.
56 is the word count now, 62, 63,
Smashing these keys with nothing in mind,
Nothing in mind 'til I project it on,
But no amount of revision can save
A steaming pile of smashes.
Creativity lost in the ubiquity of the spiders' web,
Just playing in shit.
Forming it into new shapes,
getting wrapped tight.
An entire existence in denial.
Smash. Smash. Smash.
Chomp.