...but I would rather see you
Laugh from a distance
Than watch your
Misery from this close.*

**** you, lady
Of poet.

Could I swallow this ocean
Of pride, so as not to
Drown in it?

Would any one gulp
Make a difference?
Stupid man.

Rather go down with it
Than lying -for once,
Saying:

*"You
Were
Right."

Of us wants to
Lose
Either
Of us.

So the Poet knows that to
Stand up for it all,  
He'll have to stand down.
Stand back and
Look around,

Say to himself: Your big heart
Deserves better than
Your big head, brother.
You can both have
Whomever you
Want.

So if you want each other,
Keep wanting each other.
You're not
Stupid, you've got hands. It ain't
Rocket Romance.

I stand yelling on both of my own
Shoulders, trying
Not to confuse
Myself.

I love you.
I'll take that. And
Run with
It.

hold up a second,
My mind is stuck on one thought,
And it has been the last week
But i don't feel like writing about it,
*I would write for days.

If you hold a seashell
Against your ear,
You will hear a tic-toc
Within the knock of your own
Heart counting down by

Each beat being
Unfathomably fainter; you
Must
Write
Now.
Write for your life.

Silence is sin. Blank pages and
Clean walls around
The dwellings of your poetic
Powers; pure
Blasphemy.

Write, poet. Write for your life.
Counter every grain
Of sand passing, with
Words.
Write prose on the wind with
Your fingers to be carried into

The Archives of All. Write as if
Your death depends
On it. Express the beauty of
Our common insignificance,
And how we are still
Held above
Angels.

Write for your lives, flee
From slumber; awake.
There's lucidity here, unlike
Any seen through the haze of a
Dreamer's eyes.

You are the voice of the
Human Race, the last line of
Defence against
Robot lives
In a cold
Machine.

Write for our lives.
Write for your lives.