Written: 3/8/2026
I've worn out many shoes and boots,
Dodged men and women with despicable tastes.
At 37 Jesus still grants me breaths,
Yet the creativity stays flowing from this stream.
I've blazed one in an old fireplace,
And wrote with a blue pen like a needle in the air.
I lose sight and interest even with free time,
Earnest, how in the world did you do this?
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 7:35 PM UTC
Written: 3/8/2026
I've worn out many shoes and boots,
Dodged men and women with despicable tastes.
At 37 Jesus still grants me breaths,
Yet the creativity stays flowing from this stream.
I've blazed one in an old fireplace,
And wrote with a blue pen like a needle in the air.
I lose sight and interest even with free time,
Earnest, how in the world did you do this?
A poem I wrote in the mental ward of my jail job on how it's been so difficult over time to try and write my first novel
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