I write for someone whose name I have
            long since forgotten.
I write for someone new each time pencil
            hits page.
I never know who the words will pour
            out of my heart
                                                 For.
I write for you and I
write for me.
Because
I'm Selfish like that.
So with both our minds in heart,
I transform blank page into a mine-field
            of words.
That mine-field is my dearest friend.
It is my worst enemy.
My Achille's heel. The mine field that
           gives me life
                                                  Also
steal­s my breath.

So I write this to you, and maybe the death
           of this artist can
                                                  Save you.
Maybe a glimpse inside my head
           will be your
                                                  Salvation.­
So I write this to you,
for once, with entirely
un-selfish
Ambitions.
That you might
live.

If you live,
and I die,
then that is a
note-worthy

S a c r i f i c e.