Brother,
For the days we have known each other,
I have come to the conclusion that there
Is something wrong with your eyes, because
Where you see brokenness, I see strength
Holding all your pieces together.
Where you see scars, I see tattoos of triumph,
Stories of how you fought,
Stories of how you lived each battle through.
Where you see ugly, I see beauty in places
You refuse to turn your head to, why
Won’t you turn your head to see
How I see you?
See, you have seen far too many hellos
And even more goodbyes to believe
That I am here to stay.
And I
Am here to stay.

Brother, my hands are here to catch
Whatever falls out of your storms.
I myself have been a storm far too many times
To run away when your rains start to pour.
My feet are ready to come chasing after you
When you stray too far away from home,
And as long as there is breath in my lungs
I swear I will never let you stay lost.
Because I
Am here to stay.

Till the day the world runs out of will to spin one more round,
Till the day the waves stop running back to shore,
Till the day mother and father and sister and brother forget each other’s faces,
Till the day of judgment,
Till the day of blood and trial,
Till the day of denial,
I will stay.
I will stay.
I will stay.

she was beautiful
but if you looked close enough
you could see
she was broken

and the light in her eyes
was far gone below the surface

simply mimicking dead stars

i want to scream at you

until my very voice causes earthquakes

and makes even the ocean tremble with fear

but you deserve nothing but my silence

so i will let my eyes speak instead

s.s

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs
as I removed my source of Grecian power,
as if King Midas dared to touch the skies,
upon thy body fell a *******.

Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung
upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed.
The sun had set, thy set with wary hung
I thought, "How black a night, and blue a lode!"

I said, "What light through yonder ****** breaks?
It is the yeast!" And now my belly's yellow.
My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes,
but 'tis not massive, I am no Othello.

And when that final moment came to pass,
like Christ I came a-riding on an ***.

I wear a scarf
                  to keep my words warm.
So you will smile when
                     they smack you in the face.

Martha was ugly, like a shaven baboon.
So she wrapped herself up in a curtain cocoon.
One week later, she finally emerged---
She smelled like ****.
What a ******!