Pen in hand waiting to glide across the lined sheet
and yet no blood is spilling upon the page so I admit defeat.
I am void of prodigious literary expression;
my spark has gone and now I must face temporary repression.

Words are all I see, all I feel...
Constantly making mazes in my ******* brain, deciding if I'll get outta this house today or if I'll just stay in bed writing my heart out loud.
No eating, no sleeping, no care... Just words...
Words that are stronger than my will, stronger than my hunger, stronger than my wanting for peace...
Words that consume me, words that I must write to the world to find a way to let this screaming chest have a voice...
Words that frantically take over my thoughts, that aren't afraid to be seen, that have more courage than my own soul...
Words are all I see, all I feel, all I am.

the ceiling i now wear my eyes up
plastic black garbage bags and the rainbows fuse
wood-stock, bare beams and studs fixed with lines from dried
desiccate nails poked through

on
Milwaukee Avenue the miscarriages of newer child abuse shows through
characters worth keeping close are quieter than I'd choose, the mean grifters are so loud it's trying too hard to be obtuse. Anyone can be an ***
but my assholedom is strained from confusion and too much use. Underneath the mountains inside a record box, I only want to live where you're a fixture and a friend. My fingertips are bent, I can sew, I can write, I can breathe inside your mouth if you'll allow me too.

I write words on you
with my fingers running along your skin,
chasing the sun's rays.

It's too early too tell if you're likely
to be tickled by the idea of staying.
I am comfortable in my own skin
(on yours),
so I don't have to beg.

As long as your eyes are closed,
we can dream of better things --
knots we can always untie,
flights we can always afford
and distances we can always ignore.

You turned your back on me and let the slowly closing door swallow the image of you walking away. That was the last time we talked. That was the last time you look at me. And I swear to any astrologist in this world that that is how the sun sets.

I always gave one
It's in my nature
giving one is easier
than none

For some reason
we feel non existent
if we don't give one

We give and receive them
like candy
but I found a loophole
in this never ending
cycle that leads to blood boiling sessions
and hair tearing tantrums

Not give one
one the greatest lines in movie history
highlights NOT GIVING ONE

Once you don't a magical feeling
overcomes the weight, the burden
that dulls down your brightest days

so darling, empty those bags
under your eyes, empty those nerves
from stress
and
don't
give
a
****

What I see
is not what is

I tell myself tales
of how life appears
of where I’ve been
where I’m going

That’s the trouble
with a writers mind
you never know
which part you should believe

Tuesday night was always dull
however this one was oddly full
of events from 6 to 1

I don't know what happens
but suddenly alcohol sharpens
all your inner untamed inhibitions

Why is it so?
That when I am with you at night
I am always hit by delight

You're there and I am here
and so is she
but there is a certain kind of comfort
that elevates me to feel to resort
to what "us" is

That meaning that floats
over seas of oblivion
over mountains of stupor
over valleys of friendship
for the lack of a better word

Here, order me another drink
and let me drown
whatever makes sense
tonight