Someone should drop a rock on me like a paperweight
At the bottom of a well
So I can decide if these words are worth keeping
What
Don't you feel like you might be blown off the desk sometimes, too
There are a lot of settings for the ceiling fans and even if they whistle some of them might not be as avid for your autograph as you'd think
Sometimes there isn't a difference between fan mail and hate mail
It's just people who are too tired to empty their souls into a pitcher and the paper makes a wall around their drooping sandbag hearts
And I forgive them
Because the well was dry long before anybody could refill it

I could very well end up in a wastebasket for my trouble
But I want to be worth remembering by my deeds not my name