a boy with seven hearts

they gave him seven hearts
the first for dreaming
the second for running
the third for crawling
the fourth for laughing
the fifth for crying
the sixth for loving
the seventh for fighting

in each heart waged a war
the sound of blowing horns not very far
in each heart grew a tree
taller than the depth of the sea

in one boy sang seven hearts
they sang a song that lasted til night
a song that took away all the fright
the fear that spun around like a kite

in two hands he grasped one heart and asked
“what do you do?”
it said “i fight for one important thing
and, boy, that thing is you.”

in one palm he held a small heart and whispered
“what can you do?”
the heart replied, “i may be small but my dreams are big
and that’s what makes me you.”

each heart was crafted differently
each one had a unique design
but together they were stronger
and together they could shine

it's 23:53 and if i were to swear that this would be the last poem i write about you

i'd be lying

pain is a far more sustainable fuel than happiness;
it keeps the poet's engine whirring

and darling

all you've ever done is hurt me

00:01
i spent six minutes contemplating how much damage you caused,
the way you ran me off the road, swerving down dark paths i'd never known existed before

i didn't receive compensation for the emotional whiplash you left me with

the words "i love you" make my nerves twinge

Denial
I don't want them to be right
The people who said you would
Hurt
Belittle
Disgrace
My existence
They were right
Every part of my stubborn being won’t let them be
But why is it
That I love you
So.

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

They will know my name
I say
They will know my name
I claim

They will know my name
It's only fair
They will know my name
A promise, a dare

They will know my name
To tell tall tales to the young
They will know my name
Blazing bright as the burning sun

They will know my name
Spoken, crying, in a rush
They will know my name
To scream into the hush

They will know my name
To whisper in the night
They will know my name
They will know my might

They will know my name
Across the star-born universe
They will know my name
In the smallest places on Earth

They will know my name
Further than the eye can see
They will know my name
They will know me

They will know my name
For better or for worse
They will know my name
A blessing, a prayer, a curse

They will know my name
Let it give them pause
They will know my name
It will be written next to yours

The first time taking off my binder,
I breathed a heavy breath,
And tried not to cry.
I had an item in my hold
That could make me happy for a day.
I had found my key.
Now I have trouble taking it off,
Because at the end of the day,
I still want to be happy

Words are hard.
I know I'm not saying
Anything revolutionary.
For all of the human race
Speech poses a quandary:
Do I speak?

Words are hard.
You know the saying:
Like a stone, words hurt:
Shattered bones, shattered soul,
Shattered self worth.
Can I speak?

Words are hard.
They take more energy
than I have left to give.
Perhaps if I ignore the rest
I'll have a will to live.
Why should I speak?

Words are hard.