Confidential Corruption (8)

This wraps my first book of poetry, up till then my sheets were just a disordered mess. This book left my possession, I sent it with a friend who was going off to university, to see he could find anyone that would take an interest in it. He lost it, left it behind after moving. He told me not to worry, it wasn't very good anyways. At the time it broke my heart a little, to lose something which held so much value to me. Luckily it was stuffed up in an attic and eventually recovered years later. Honestly, I do agree with him, it's visceral, angry, but tends to be repetitive. The fact my poem from September 11th isn't more memorable is disappointing, though I remember the disbelief of the day, I should of captured the truth of my day above what I was seeing on TV.

I leave you with these final pages, I hope you have enjoyed them, they serve as a zeitgeist of a world before Facebook, smartphones. 16 years after, there is a honesty to it, written to explain my feelings to my counsellor.

I'll post links to the previous posts below for ease of access, thank you all who have up-voted previous entries. Your patronage is greatly appreciated. Please feel free to question or comment.

Gratefully Yours,
Eli