Writers are *****
Writers are ******
Getting high off a mental fix
Arrogant-self-indulgent-I'm-Smarter-Than-You-Narcissists
Diag­nosing their own disorders no need for a therapist
Id-ego-super-ego-creating their own analysis:

Buy my book so I can feel (more) important!

Writers are *****
Writers are ******
******* out their minds doing word tricks
self-centered-egomaniacal -lunatics

Buy my book so I can feel (more) important!

when I get drunk
I think of you
so I get drunk
to have an excuse
to dwell in you
you're my muse
***** heartache
double shots of you

Sound the trumpets
Blare the horns
Let loose the rockets
I am reborn
No more limbo
And just hanging on
I'll never be the same
There's no telling what I'll become

Pop the champagne corks
Bang the drums
Hear the boom of the cannons
My life has just begun
No more maybe
And just hanging on
Life is for living
There's no telling what I'll become

I didn't think there were words that would make me stop loving you

And then you proved me wrong

You're not who I thought you were

You made up the words and we sang the song

It must be a joke

And the joke is on me

"I love her" is not in my vocabulary

What are you singing to her

A duet of lust never felt for me

The song written for another is the saddest form of poetry

I have dreams, not delusions.  Finally myself, not an illusion.

Moving against the current
It would be easy
to just let go
to not have to trudge along
every step harder then the last
I might be submerged
drowned by the deep unknown
Hope as small as specks of sand
that fall through my fingers
I'll keep moving along
holding my heart above me
shielding it from the waves
and if my bridges are burned
I'll build new ones