I Write.


The world spins, 

my pen twirls.

The curved hill becomes a rugged mountain, 

and my fingers arch over keys.

I get slammed, I get broken, I'm stretched out and hung to dry. 

But if my hand can reach it, I'll retrieve the pencil in my pocket. 


I write to sing, 

to let myself out

to  crack those walls between myself and the outside world.

Writing builds that bridge, crosses that lake, that tunnel, that chasm. 

In writing, I'm able to lay it all out for real.

To engulf my past in a world of lead and leaves, and shelf it on the rack for eternity. 


In life there are too many walls, in writing the limits become my own words. 

And my words are endless.

I can never write the same poem twice, 

and one person will always interpret my poetry differently than the next.

Yes, that's a good thing. 


I write so that others will understand.

That understanding will bring renewal. 

That in renewal, a heart of black diamond can be cleansed, 

a companion can be made. 

With the words on a page, 

and the guy who put them there.

I write to make connections, 


I write to breath easy. 

I write to spit out my guts, 

and I write, hoping that someone else will spit there's out too. 


At first, I wrote because I needed to.

Because life was rough,

and it seems I always balanced on that beam between destiny and death.

I wrote like my life depended on it, 

because sometimes it did.


I wrote because I was submerged in eery waters,

I wrote because I was never found,

I wrote because I needed someone to love me and mean it, 

and I hoped that if I wrote them my letters,

they would come and read them. 


Yeah, people say life's a hole. 

A whole lot of nothing. 

I can't say I agree, and I don't think they do either.


See that's the thing, 

people say what they don't mean. 

And mean what they DON'T SAY.


I write for all the times I meant what escaped my conscious being. 

I write what I mean, for anyone who might come across it. 

So that there can be some real truth in the world,

some actual reality.

Because we don't have too much of that in this society. 


You still there?

You still with me?


I know I'm becoming overdrawn,

But I'm luring you with my words.

As any good fisherman would do.

Gotta make you see I'm worth more than me.

Gotta make you see I'm more than who I am.

Gotta make you see, gotta make you know that -


I'm giving you my heart, 

so hang on, wait awhile.

I'm laying out my life,

giving your mind some real sustinence. 

Not those malnutritioning white lies. 


This is me. 

And I write so someone can know ME.

I write to make way for hope in my heart. 

I write because I hunger for love, for acceptance. 

I write because I want others to find refuge and clarity in the caress of my words. 

As long as resources allow,  

I write. 












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