The typical 2 a.m. poem is messy
because middle of the night thoughts have no structure

The typical 2 a.m. poem is deep
because darkness is perfect for existentialism

The typical 2 a.m. poem is raw
because it's hard to edit when you're tired

This 2 a.m. poem is just another 2 a.m. poem
desperately trying to be unique

Every day and night
my thoughts are on your lips.
That crimson temptation
and source of my life.

They smile in gentle red
and speak with unique truth.

Quench my heart’s fire
with sweet tender kisses
and revive my wilted soul
with dew from cupid’s bow.

I say I live as a burden,
My mouth sealed shut.
So that I may not utter the words,
Of my weighted thoughts.

These truths weigh a ton,
And I've far too many for just one head.
For even mine.
My head bobs to my shoulder,
Weakened necks can't hold this.

Now I'm shaking,
Trembling.
Because I gave you the rocks,
The stones that broke my neck.
And you are fading,
Drifting all at once.

Give me your boulders,
And we will be even.
Give me your mountains,
So I can rest easy.

My burdenous brain
Broken neck
Heavy thoughts

I never meant to break your neck too

Dear Poetry,
You are one of a kind,
You were a love, hard to find,
With you I can leave the world behind,
To one more refine,
Dear poetry,
You fill me with hope,
With words that help me cope,
You lift my spirits oh so high,
Dear poetry,
I'll love you until I die...

Hanging on by a thread,
I feel like the walking dead,
Can't wait to go back to bed,
Oh Lord! When will this week end?

I fell
And felt

And fell a little
More and felt a little more

So far down I fell
And so fast I went

In the deep blue
Vast and unknown

I knew what
Happened at the bottom

But I fell harder
And faster than ever before

At the possibility
That I didn’t know what would
Happen

But it did happen
Just like I thought

They say the pen is mightier than the sword,
but I chose both.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.