(2014)
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
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
I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
