I am a poet
and my words bleed my blood
they say what I feel
and breath through my lungs

I'm so far from home
I can't even find it on my map
I've been circling the same block for so long
each tree has grown to hide me even further
but I keep walking in that same circle
hoping it turns into a straight line

it's days likes these
where the rain soaks my bones
wilting the flowers I use to line my soul
and I seem too busy
to care for those roses
but if I'm not willing to tend my own garden
why do I think another poor soul will be up for the challenge?

cold coffee warming my hands
the ghost of you staining my heart
the thought of us drifting apart

my thoughts are strangling me
they've tied a noose
and are ready to kick the chair out from under me
my hands are bound behind my back
and the fight I thought I had
has completely drained from a lack
of comfort and hope of a solution from death
so I better not fight it
a fight not worth fighting
because if I fight and I win
who's left to keep me from dying?

that last breath you took,
was it for me?
or did you waste it begging for bravery?

grounded, am I,
in these worn out shoes
soulless and hole strewn
just like my heart too
is broken in like these old shoes
wanderlust on my tongue
and insanity on my lips
I cry in my sleep like an addict on a bad trip
but my mind is clear as I gaze out my window
whisper sad songs as I draw in the fog with my fingers
I am gone, so gone,
I wish I could stay here,
but these soulless and hole strewn shoes
have plans to get away, dear