***** your finger and bleed directly onto the page. Buy a typewriter from a thrift store and poetically sit in a coffee shop until your muse walks in. Sleep with your professor and let her write your poems for you. Hold private seances at the cemetery. Read your high school yearbook until your poems seethe with forgotten teenage angst. Specifically berate your current lover but then assure him the words arenβt about him. Drink yourself into oblivion but blame your inner artist for your demons. List all the sins of your mother and conveniently forget those of your father. Clutch your pen until a stigmata appears in your hands. Speak your truth, but tell your friends your poems arenβt from your own point-of-view.