Call yourself Morgan.
Do not hesitate.
You were born on summer solstice.
Like the sun, you’re distant from others.
Move to Seattle and leave no forwarding address.
Busker for a break and warm your bones with charity work.
Pretend poetry is the only thing you’re good at,
And be good at it.
You can’t just write ****** words into
An exhausted leather journal, no.
Incorporate stanza into every conversation.
Drip intensity and rapture like morphine
Into the veins of anyone who will actually love you.
Speak as if you were never human and you’re still learning to exist.
Metaphors and run-on’s are your best friends-
Run-on sentences.
Run-on arguments.
Run-on relationships.
Run-on recovery.
Develop a reliance on caffeine so potent that
you've become the 7:30am medium black coffee
at the cafe down the street.
Leave no traces.
This used to be a poem based off of a poet I looked up to; Buddy Wakefield. I was encouraged to rewrite it as if it were for me, so I did. Since then, I had the privilege to meet Buddy Wakefield. At a meet & greet after his show, he was so rude to me that I left crying my eyes out. This was so disappointing. I no longer associate the only poem I've ever been proud of, with his name.
