If a writer
Falls in love with you
       you can never
                die................

How do you
Forgive yourself
For all the
Things that
You never
Became?

Why try? Why improve?
Why make progress or even move?

Because

Every hard right or rough start
Or Endless fight on a long night,

Isn't for you, or for him
But for the me I want to become.

And what a sight she will be

this feeling is not
symbiotic: you reduce
my core to nothing

I am screaming at the the sky
but I still love
the dark blue inky ness
of its call

I can’t decide
if I’m comforted by the fact
that every thought  
I’ve ever had
has probably been had
before

And I don’t know
which is worse
That we are, perhaps
incredibly,
undeniably
not special at all
Or that we incredibly,
undeniably
are