He writes, because sometimes...his pen and his piece of paper,
are the only things he can heal through his words
After advice from everyone else's life has left his lips...last pennies given to the poor
White throats between blue-lined lips accept his sentences like the bad medicine you used to hate your parents for as a kid
Notebook pages aren't afraid of his blood disguised as ink
They accept his…"I don't know if I’ll be okays..." like cancer patients in radiation treatment...carry his last words like tombstones in forgotten African mausoleums...protect conversations he could never have with his father or mother
He writes when God ignores Him, lifts his pen in worship to force his holy words on unworthy, broken notebook pages...
Sewn together in doubt, he reads them like the Bible...
Often blind in brail, he carries the Book of Eli
And My Man, I am not saying I am Denzel...I wish...
Definitely not saying I am God
You just have to understand, He has always spoken best to me through poetry...

He writes in holy matrimony,
for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, often poorer,
He writes when he cannot hear his own voice,
sticks pen in mouth until it becomes his tongue and he drools black ink,
He writes for love and acceptance...more out of need that want because
Guys need to be loved to,
Writes when he needs to be listened to by good friends who never forget what you say and never remind you until you need to remember-
though people like that don't exist anymore...
He writes to fit in with little Sudanese kids who haven't lost their ability to dream...even after their faces have been mutilated,
Writes for Social Justice
Writes so that he will never take for granted his ability to write
For he has watched too many dreams die not because their time has come, but because we don't fight for their lives
He writes to be a lifesaver
chest pumping "you're worthy's and you're more than ables" into the mental lungs of those that have never breathed their own air
Writes to kiss uniqueness...to remember that for every one person on earth, there are 6 galaxies full of a hundred million stars,
Writes for his future daughters so they will always know what love letters look like long after men have stopped writing
He writes in completion because sometimes...his pen and his piece of paper are the only things he can heal through his words