I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
beauty.

Do you see
the generation today,
my generation struggling
emotionally
having jarred into their heads
that it's not okay to cry
that it's not good to cry
that it's going to be alright
if you would just stop crying
if you would just wipe the tears off
that crying is for the weak (oh my son is not weak)
that crying wouldn't help
that crying is for the enemies
my generation
was served a lie on the platter
and we gulped it down
our throats without a thought
so that if we ever choke with tears
we'd gulp the lie over and over again
but mothers and fathers
look yourselves in the eye
and tell me if shedding a few tears
didn't turn down your grief
and tell me if shedding a few tears
made you any less a man
made you any less a woman
made you any less a human
Mothers and fathers
look your children in the eye
and tell them
crying is just another emotion
that has the ability
to sit down with your heart
in moments of grief
and be the friend
it needs the most.
tell them
crying is for the strong
crying is for those who feel
crying is for everyone
tell them
crying is okay.
crying is good.

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

3:38am

Being trapped in a corner
Where everything stops
And simultaneously
Comes crashing down in a torrent of voices.
Echoing the same self loathing
That you beat every day, and lose to every day.

Looking desperately for a way out
Ready to sell your soul to the wrong buyer
For a quick gratification
Or just a way out.

Boxed in

Cave in, but can’t save him.

Jerking in his sleep but it’s not working

It won’t stop. His head is unlocked
Because he left his keys out of the lockbox

Struggling to breathe.
It’s only been 3 minutes

4.

5.

And then everything stopped.

And he became numb again.

Still twitching. Still feeling it.
 But buried.
Ice over the water’s surface