Emphatic Joy

I could write something, but it wouldnt matter

I'll write it anyway, no matter

I could read it again tomorrow, I won't

I could stay awake all night writing more

I won't

I wont breathe in the dark and puff breaths upwards

In light of the screen with the window ajar

I won't hang my head just above the floor

and I won't get everything tangled up in here

I thought I'd write you something, but I didn't

what is the point?

I'm still going through with it in my head,

other sentences are forming at the same time or

faster than these

there you went

arms

concrete floor

legs, shone

walking

through each

different

college

campus

arm

swinging,

ate a

grape

from

the

box

and bought

some

ice-cream

stop. I could repeat myself and finish this sentence,

but what would be th