The last thing I ever expected
He asked me to be his girlfriend
I said yes

Do either of us know how to be a girlfriend and a boyfriend
Or does that even matter

I'm a secret of the night
He sneaks out of someplace after dark to sneak into me

He sneaks out of me at daylight and sneaks back to someplace else

How long will I or can I be a secret of the night
That's a secret he keeps from me

And here we are, a bunch of
  bad poets writing bad poetry
   liking each others thoughts while
    hating our own words, trying to
     keep ourselves open and free in
      a world full of cages and traps, pens
       full of ink, thoughts full of rage, a blank
        white surface being turned into a stage and
          we're yelling and screaming in vain as another
            bad poem dies on the page...

It is only
when one
is sick and
devoid of it
does one
realise that
all the world's
a love song
And the people
star-crossed lovers.

...

SNAP!
The fangs bare down upon you,
Darkness, red, darkness, white, red, red, red, darkness,
You feel the crunch,
The grind of bone,
To wake up in a puddle of sweat and realize you’re alone.

I want to write again
I want to feel
Like I did back then
When my day depended
On the words I had chosen
-- The life I put
In my poems

I want to write again
I want to feel
The thrill of the pen
The delight that rushes through my veins
When the right words blend
The pain I endure
Once my thoughts
No longer make sense

I am exhilarated
When I start
Scribbling on paper
My heart at peace
As soon as I polish it
On my typewriter

I write again
I write
Like nothing ever happened
Like not a thing prevented me
Months at an end

I write again

I write
Because it is who I am
Because in time,
I always return
To my essence
-- That in the end,
Nothing feels quite right
Unless I am writing.