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

I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth

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 would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all

If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing

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

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

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

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