If you enjoy having every fibre of your consciousness picked apart by literary ***** at 2 am on a Wednesday,
Fall in love with a writer.

If you enjoy fighting over incorrect grammar usage,
Fall in love with a writer.

If you want to constantly have your eyes rolled at every time you question a metaphor,
Fall in love with a writer.

If you want to be swept off your feet and then promptly put back down in the same piece of writing,
Fall in love with a writer.

If you want to feel worried when the phone isn't answered,
Fall in love with a writer.

Mood swings and sleepless nights?
Fall in love with a writer.

If tangible expression conveys unequivocal compassion,
Most of the time, don't fall in love with a writer.

If you want misinterpret pieces of writing because of the uncertainty of the writers sanity,
Fall in love with one.

If you find that yesterday you were dating a completely different person, if you find that your skin is often referred to as porcelain cigarette ash, if your eyes are viewed like the the first time you saw two flies *******, if the lump in your throat lives on ballpoints, you've fell in love with a writer.

There's no turning
back at this point,
falling out of love
with a writer is like
saying goodbye to a
phone with no dial tone.

Before the revolution,
I snuck into the capitol
with a pocket full of
Wrigley’s Doublemint
and a ski mask.

Lurking in their hallways
after hours. Hiding
in their aisles to find all their
loose pens,
I chewed gum
and covered all the tips
with Doublemint.

The ***** money in a politician’s pocket
will stick to their fingertips
from all the sugar and spit.
I stuffed the president’s inkwell
with gum stick wrappers.
Countless taxpayer dollars
will pour into the pockets
of Bic and Paper Mate
because of my vandalism.
Watch me take a bite from
the budget and chew.

While my comrades are
in the streets taking
tear gas and pepper spray
my breath smells of peppermint
and my bullets come in 35¢ packs.
Pens get capped with dextrin and aspartame
to snipe a signature from falling
on the bill that signs your life away.

I’m on the couch with my mask off
flossing and watching C-SPAN,
as the House collectively
wastes hours scraping
fountain pens and ballpoints.
Looking at a government
full of corrupt pearly whites,
my head thrown back,
I cackle like a mad criminal
with a mouth full of cavities.

Reaching and breaking
a high until I fall
just to get you to hear me at all
I loved you so blindly,
so purposely and entirely,
focusing everything
to our future that I carved out into my psyche
clammy hands gripping ballpoints while I'm shaking
Because linear lines were never really my thing
especially in learning about loving
and what it would eventually bring me
But it was never supposed to be like this
I guess lessons are sometimes easy to miss
I'm glad I was I was already standing
Meanwhile I've been carrying so much hostility
vulnerability doesn’t come so easy anymore
I feel weak whenever I let down a wall,
open a window, or a door...
And because of that, no one ever really gets in
if they do, just like you, it’s right before they’re leaving
Because time and time again I’m shown
that I’m only here to change a man’s life, not stay in it
while they're thirsty for me to inspire it,
to mystify, to entertain ****
to help them see what they’re worth
to dig into their layers running deeper than the earth’s...
But I’m not here to be a muse
without reciprocation of inspiration infused...
I want someone to dig into my layers
the way that I dig into theirs
instead of playing the part of understanding me
when in reality, they don't ******* care...
It was easier for you to stay on the surface
where you could observe me, lay within me,
take my vibe in without any hassle,
but my roots are just as important as my petals
You made it to my soil and wanted a ******* medal
Got into the dirt where it's dark,
and I suddenly became too heavy
I became a burden you carried
while I continued to carry you...
And I don't think I was ever truly yours
I didn't want to be just another
I didn't want to be your mother, your therapist, your **...
I felt like a hidden world being left undiscovered
that you once said you wanted so badly to know
your words will never produce as much as your actions show
because if you had ever loved me, you'd have let us grow
planting the seeds were half the toil
and your roots were never in my soil