I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first

The pen must be
 mightier than the sword
 For there is nothing that
 will spill your guts faster
 than a bit of ink that says


I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can

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 see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

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

Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting

I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark