there's a girl behind me
wailing, falling to pieces,
and i'm too terrified
to even turn around.
I feel like an *******.

I turned off my music
to hear what she was saying.
she only screamed.

I looked around the bus and saw
that everyone was doing
as I was doing:
listening, but trying to look
as though we weren't listening.

we were all embarrassed
that someone was breaking down
and it was too real
for any of us to accept.

what's wrong?
what can I do to help you?
come for a walk with me.
let me hold you.

these are some of the things that
I was screaming inside my head,
but I
couldn't
even
turn
a-*******-round.

today I read a series
of rules
for writing poetry.
one that caught my eye was:

"If it hasn't been edited, it isn't a poem. It is a draft."

it was stated with such conviction, I was convinced.
I said to myself:

"I've never written a poem... these are all
drafts."

but this guy also said:
never rhyme,
use the word soul
and you should be shot,
if it doesn't sound beautiful
it isn't a poem.

also he was writing rules
on how to write poetry.
who does that?
I resolved that he must be
a pretentious ******.

this is the raw stuff
that we all have to work with.
but no one ever publishes
their first draft.
so we're stuck
living in our own raw
footage,
and comparing it to
everyone else's highlight reel.

if you don't want to call this
poetry, that's fine.
you can **** on
my initial *****.

Jim and Jill on market day
Watch a gret ol' bull hev his way

"Do you look at that now Jim,
Why can't you be more like him?"

"Well," said Jim, "there's a difference now-
He don't stick to the same old cow."

You ever sat in a bar
on your second and last
beer,
just listening to music
through your headphones,
no girl with you
no game,
the only thing up your sleeve
is a tattoo of a purple
dancing bear?
Just wondering.
Have I?
Maybe.
Then again, I did leave with a poem.

The closest thing
to forcing creativity
is stumbling into a bar solo
and looking for a brawl-
it's never a good idea.
Instead you should play it safe
and just go to bed-
let it brew-
before you do something stupid,
before you get in over your head,
bark up the wrong tree.
Trust me,
you only feel unstoppable,
and a hot numb fist is no good
at a gun fight.
So forget it,
turn around- call it a night.
Otherwise you could lose
some precious blood,
your shoes,
or worse
your mind.