(2014)
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth
Life is an uphill struggle Nothing comes easy and only hard work pays off I don’t like hard work was my 5 word protest
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
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’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
I awoke from a deep sleep and knew the reason was to write I love you
If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows