Blonde in a red Corvette, free as a bird
Me, just a child, staring at her
Remember thinking, that's where I'm gonna be
In a red Corvette, at 33
No kids, no baggage, not even a dog
Stomp on the gas, and simply take off
No limits, no signs, just a juicy sunset
The wind in my hair, not an ounce of regret
She never saw me, but I'll never forget
The phoenix who flew past me, in a red Corvette

Imagine being a poet with nothing to say.
Vacant eyes fixed on your screen all day.
If a lost soul reaches out, you slap them away.
You pretend to be a poet, but you've got nothing to say.

I'm going to delve deep into the woods, and let falling leaves land on me.
So if anyone asks where I went, tell them I'm under a dying oak tree.
It's peaceful here.
My best friend's a deer.
Where on Earth would I rather be?

i came back to the dance
of a pen
on a paper
of fingers on keys
of a mind
in a moment

at first i stumbled
it had been so long
and then i started to dance again
and out came all the feelings and the moments and the memories that i won't talk about
and out came everything that won't ever come out of my mouth

i came back to the dance
so i don't have to come back to the same crippling feelings anymore

i came back

so i can move on

She sat down to ink her masterpiece
The poem that would tug on all heartstrings with ease
The one that would make them understand her disease
And everyone would be pleased
Except her
Because nothing will ever be quite good enough
When competing with one's self things can get rough
That's why after a minute or two she gave up
Her masterpiece a stain from an old coffee cup

Loosen your

Chains,
Brains,
*****,

Your vowels
And your bowels