I write for people
who have not made it
out of the dark yet
I write for girls and boys
and everyone burning between
I write for those with gardens of pain
bursting in their lungs,
for everyone so tenderhearted
they quiver
at the red wilderness
of splendor and absurdity
around us
I write for souls with teeth,
for shadow eyes,
for scapulae fighting to become wings,
for rage and awe condensed to the point of
explosion