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

If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains

So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything

I was like a rain cloud over a small garden and dammit if you weren’t that garden so full of flowers that I fell in love

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

I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer

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

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

Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown