spent; spinning for a poet
& a writer before
how each left.me.hungry
and stuck to-the-floor

because words are what matter
i'd climb inside...if i could
their minds spin that magic
i know better;.... i should

no knack to trade words
with anyone new
it's the writers and poets
who help hear the hues

ah,.. their loving is trag//ic
.... and beautuful, too
cause you can't help, but to hold them
and they.can't.help.wanting it, too...

the minute they let you
into their hearts
you find it's a chamber
with tangled-up parts

and they will love you with all
they've got -to- spare
but there is always some haunting
of ghosts ^hang^ing^ there

they'll hold you so close
while,..they hold you at bay
and they'll crush\you\with\silence
when they've no.thing to. say.

cause they haven't quite left you
but it's headed that way
you're the next empty spector
in their collection today.....

while they're penning you in
they'll leave your heart drained
& alone in your worry
about alloftheir__pain

yet,...i've done it before
and...i'll do it again
....Words/My/Achilles
like Whiskey.and.Gin