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.