What do you give to
get what you get? Sweat?
Or are those tears, falling with
gravity at the depravity,
that dragged you down to
where it was, waiting,
laying innocently and
you just stumbled upon
it?  Next thing you know
you are not a social
darling, but rejected
like a starling, by the
larger scavengers and
now you need therapy
and social mediation,
Stand up, say your name,
admit your addiction,
isn't anything private
anymore,...
but alas I ramble,
I don't mean to
sound off, some days
I am just off...aways.
Don't text me I don't
own a
cell phone
or the night,
don't copy and
paste, instead roll
a pencil or pen, in
your hands, take
paper and patience,
please!? I know you
can get through this,
I know you can get
down to do this,
Free the verse!
Free the verse!
Free...you
(slumping now
blood sugar
dropping fast,
and how...)
You use your words
to paint images
in black and white,              t o g e t h e r,
letters colour others'
imagination, don't
give up or give in,
do what you were
called to do, anything,
any thing else is a sin,
then the darkness, we all
share IT will cry;
"I win,
I win,
I..."
stop it in those track
marks made, your
porcelain skin and
heart of gold, eyes
of jade, I will never
be closer to you
then when you write,
what you write,
c'mon start, if you
don't we then are          a  p  a  r  t
only to keep hoping,
looking to see,
that light,
keep looking
promise...?
I will too.
until then I am here.








l

If I tore the pages out of every book on writing
I have ever bought threw them in the air they
would bury me and the
hill would loom as large as my failure.

If I tore all the empty pages from all the empty journals,
I have not soiled with, ink or spoiled their purity,
and threw them in the air they would bury me and
the mountain would have streams of tears at my act of neglect.

If I counted all the hours, by dumping sand from
ten thousand thousand hourglasses, when
I would have done better writing
instead, of doing what ever it was I was doing to disappear,
from my grind in the wrong gear, the pile would be a mountain
chain, to the sun, and I would climb and like Icarus fall, into the ocean
after all with that much sand, I would be at a beach, right?