tell me how to write
the gnats out of my skull
the static from my fingertips
the fire from my veins
the infection from my wounds
tell me how to write
you out of this body

Being the good man you are
And keeping your word,
Knowing I can't do anything
In return must feel
Close to egotistical
But I'm not one for negativity,
Not anymore at least

And this sea just experienced
An inhumane tsunami
Of mass proportion
Everything the wave drags back in
Is a slow burn

But I'm the master of my sea
This pain will recede,
Your memory will not leave,
I will brave it and not flee.
This will not be the end of me.

On brisk Autumn mornings
I often find myself looking
outside of my bedroom window.
My eyes always seem to be drawn
to those crisp leaves.
It is not their wide range of colors
that draws me in.
Nor is it the way that they
flow with the wind.
It is the way that they fall,
the way they evolve,
that fascinates my mind.
It is a constant, never ending cycle
of life and death.
It is unavoidable
but sometimes I wish
that those leaves can stay
bright and colorful,
in their purest form.

She was the girl that loved to draw at night
All her drawings were out of sight
She was most artistic at night in the bathroom
The more she drew, the less space she had, it was going to run out very soon
She kept a secret that no one knew
Not telling anyone, her work grew
Her drawings were like no other, no paper or pen
Shes been drawing since she was ten
Before her friend can leave, he asked if she was ok
That's when she broke down and told him to stay
They sat on the bridge watching the passing cars
She rolled up her sleeves and showed him her scars
regretting her decision, crying not knowing what to say or do
Then he rolled up his sleeves and whispered "Its ok..I draw too"