(2014)
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer