Bipolar, they called it, the tide within me, Rising, falling, a moonlit frenzy. You, with your papers and promises made, Couldn’t meet the storm; your respect decayed, And I, adrift, watched the world betray me.
This morning, I woke to a vision causing no ends of indecision, If I knew what I know now I would have taken a last bow Before I reached the age of 35. No wife or a family, I'm not glass half empty I'm totally perished. I never even meet my goals Every day think of tying the ropes.
Sunlight hurts my eyes when I open the blinds I won't step outside watching the other half lives. I could only pretend to smile walking down my street, Their happiness only chases me like a blizzard of wasp stings.
I want my writing To be profound A work of art you just Want to hang on your wall And when you look at it Day in and out The words will seep Back through your skin And melt in your heart And suddenly, you feel Like someone you've never met Knows you better than Your closest companions And somehow that's okay Because now you know You've never been alone.
I've finished the first draft of my novel. What I want most is to make an impact on those who read it and to know that my words matter.
i had a dream - you and i were forty-ish in a room stuck at some premiere, maybe yours, maybe mine our eyes would meet and i think, or maybe i hope neither of us would look away and you would finally smile and i would smile and that would be enough