fuck you, sound.
I sat throught Editing I today, worked on a new poem and thought, this is good, I'm writing again. Maybe I'll have enough (or something good enough) to send out soon. And then I got on LibraryThing and happened upon a certain bi-monthly poetry review. I found this poem. It was good. Hell, it was amazing. Also, the author was twenty. With at least four publications under her belt.
Oh, God, what am I doing with my life?
I'll be outside, having a smoke. Then I'll put my bookshelf together.