the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.

I smoke **** just like you.
Money gives me greed just like you.
******* makes me wonder just like you.
My parents kicked me out when i was 17 just like you.
I died inside when i turned 13 just like you.
I saw life for what it was a 7 just like you.
I want to die everyday just like you.
I think about killing myself just ljke you.
I don't like money just like you.
I love the moon just like you.
I love the idea of love just like you.
Most important im not alone, just like you.