I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time

Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again

The pen must be
 mightier than the sword
 For there is nothing that
 will spill your guts faster
 than a bit of ink that says


If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains

I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark

The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking

I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we

I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back