I got my fridge poetry set back recently. I missed its randomness, the effortless you can patch together meaning using words in ways they're not meant to be used. I'm a pretty veiled person, and fridge poetry is like this gutteral incoherent mess that bubbles up from my subconscious. A beautiful mess.
Usually my fridge poetry makes sense. However abstract, I can usually see where I'm going with something; I know what I'm trying to say to myself.
... This one escapes even me.
(I love how I take fridge poetry so goddamn seriously. I've tried so hard to write something funny with these things and I've failed every time.)
Usually my fridge poetry makes sense. However abstract, I can usually see where I'm going with something; I know what I'm trying to say to myself.
... This one escapes even me.
(I love how I take fridge poetry so goddamn seriously. I've tried so hard to write something funny with these things and I've failed every time.)
