What can I say that hasn't been said before?
No matter my theme I repeat the rhetoric
Previously set by poets of another age.
Whether it be a minute or millennia ago.
I've written of love, loss, brotherhood, hate,
Family, friends, war, peace, breakage and repair.
I feel like a broken record.
Please, someone turn off the ******* turntable.

If my words are laced with malice,
What is it that's keeping my shoes on my feet?

pink scars
peppered her lithe limbs
flower petals incised
on peach skin

moss coursed
withered yellow-brick channels
sloping loosely down
the crooked river mouth

clouds bulged
glazed heavily over the sun
like a flashlight
engulfed in sheets

lightning sliced
the pane of sky splintered
air ignited instantly
and danced around us

You're wearing that plaid scarf like a
Scottish ****** again
Which technically only means that
You have no fashion sense
But what you're really communicating
Is that you're sad.

Light a scented candle and stretch
Out your feet like nothing's wrong.

Hold the stoneware mug in your
Cold fingers and place your
Lip on the rim but
Don't drink.

Just let the heat slowly soak into your
Bones and try to forget the
Ukulele melody trapped helplessly in that
Sleepy head of yours.

And let the steam fog up your
Vision, just let it all go blurry
For a moment until your hands burn and
You have to rub them on your jeans.

And inhale deeply what you're
Smelling
Although it smells
Foreign to you after years of
Drinking coffee you're finally
Finding some semblance of peace
With your hot liquids and your
Hot-headed heart.

And please remember it's okay to be
Weak sometimes
And it's okay to
Drink tea sometimes.