Chelsea Smiles and the Pleasure of Poetry

The aesthetic of 

Ink on paper

And floral words 

Leaving my cracked and bleeding lips


Calms the earthquakes

That tear through my fragile being


And wipes the waterfalls

That flow from these barren eyes


Better than anything else

In the late and early hours


When you are Schrodinger’s cat

More dead than alive


And the wilted words

That bleed from my wounded lips

Become rosy ink on crumpled paper


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