(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #1.)

here i was running
fast as any superman
and faster still than dreams
fail and wither and die
unripened malformed apples
rotting between the rows
fine fine feast for crows

there I fell flat
face first in the muck
and arose slathered in manured
stench of a thousand pigs
embedded in my fragile skin
unappealing malodorous me
poor poor choice for love

you simply laughed
pointed your painted nails
and flipped your perfect hair
swaying your jaunty hips
while walking away
unattached magnificent you
never to be for me.