(2014)
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
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
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
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again
To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
I awoke from a deep sleep and knew the reason was to write I love you
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
