[Does it] need to be neat and clean?

We just landed on new s[H]ores.

When I started doing [writing] poetry I was all about prosody.

It was all about fright and apprehension; an absolute lack of funny

Until I grew bored of rhythm and rime.

It made no sense whatsoever and worth not a dime

Boredom is the path to innumerous sins

It brings the insatiable seek of distraction

There we sow the seeds of our own destruction

So, ten years ago, I started writing [differently]

In French, because it was [aberrantly] comforting

Had some glorious moments of frivolous poetic soar [sore?]

And my loads of enemies showing teeth [, claws]

Whatever

We are now

And now

Is never

The same

I am trying new ways; exploring new paths

[IDK] what will be the aftermaths

Alex Ng