Yes, I can write forever about you.
But pens run out of ink sometimes.

You've got mail

Is it weird that I want to hear that again

Not
you have a notification

but mail

Waking up and running to the mailbox
heart pounding with excitement and fear

is your letter here yet


That one thought
everyday
carrying my little legs
racing
in the hopes that I would see your handwriting

and when that letter finally came

like a squirrel with a prized nut
I race away to the safety of my bed with
a flashlight
some poptarts

and pages of your letter

So happy



that I have a friend like you.

Earthly blood.

Pushing.
Left inside the crimson.
Ton of
Thorn.
Like the village where we came from.
Green.
Itching.
Dust on the self.
Dust on the shelf where Frida Kahlo stood.
Dust standing dance.
Dust for your health.
And flowers for the some to die.
Just like how I should.




Garrett Johnson.

"forgive me"
she wrote
in midnight ink
flowers in her hair
stars dripping down her cheeks
she wanted to say
"i love you"
she wanted to say
"i can fix this"
she wanted to say
"please"
and she wrote it
every word
on the page

Blue ink was no friend
Blue ink was the most boring plan
For the trees and hills Suzy ran
When Mama came with a stick in her hand

For months and years Suzy despaired
This forced acquaintance she wished to be spared
This Hulk of a character Mama'd personify
This waste of time, she knew not why

I just wanna be free, Suzy lamented
An uproarious laughter, with which she was greeted
Why do you act all so tormented, said this voice
Without blue ink, you will be mistreated

How do you carve a path of your own
How do you enforce a right you wouldn't have known
How do you right a wrong you don't condone
How do you condone life when left alone

To the books and pages Suzy ran
Devouring much material in the given span
In a solid colour, she saw a world of wonder
In its simple strokes, there was no more to be coaxed

In happiness and despair, Suzy was elevated
In health and sickness, she knew to be liberated
In company and solitude, Suzy was educated
In wealth and poverty, she knew she had profited

Blue ink had granted her the highest of privileges
For to live well, is to live with choice
A coveted privilege, with which we rejoice

The black ink pours in
The white page is pure gold
Wisdom seeps through
Transforming the lives
And the knowledge speaks
To the people in every fold.

"If you're so good with words, then be a writer"
They said
"It'll be a good release for you"
They said
Sure, it's all fun and games until you actually crack open your chest and pour out whats inside on white pages, now stained forever with the black ink of the cruelty of one's own mind.

My body walks across
this desert of white sheet.
Wounded, the cuts across my body
bleeds ink of black
leaving its history within
this endless manuscript
called life.