When I write words
On a dead page
I come alive
More than we ever could.
Quality stuff
Only appears to me
While I gargle
Something worse than spite.

Fear
Loneliness
Solitude
Misunderstanding
And the me
That makes all else
That.

What am I?
I'm a man who writes stuff down.
I'm a boy
When I look in your eyes.
Don't make me feel sane;
How can you?
I am poor for
Understanding.

So I will sit next to you
And pass poems under the table
To see if you

wretch,
Like the muse of the sea
Wailing wind while
The tide takes all love away.