breathe in
breathe out


                                                           ­                      THEN JUMP

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

I wanted us
I truly did
but you are bad at receiving
and you don't know how to give
I feel like I am throwing my love
into a black hole
and begging the night
to give me light
when all it knows is dark
sometimes the stars shine through
which gave me hope
but I need a sun
and you are in a whole different galaxy
I don't own a spaceship
I can't make this work

You made something
that was so comfortable
so mine, so safe
into a place I am scared of
it doesn't feel like home anymore
I find shelter in other places

some days I hate you for it
I know it wasn't your intention
but the outcome is the same either way

Sitting still and doing nothing
is not an option when motion is impending