Poems are not toothpaste,
you cannot squeeze another from the tube at will,
bend the ends of words for one last drop,
inspiration comes in waves
and when it wants to do so, it will stop,
you cannot pick a constant crop,
there are times when the field lies fallow
hiding seeds which may or may not grow
if and when they flower
that is not for us to know,
poets feed on what they find
the harvest of a fertile mind

It aches me that,
I know that you exist.

I know that you exist without me.

I long for my presence to be addictive.
Treat me like your new favorite drug.

Do you have withdrawals
       when I'm not around.

To be born good,
or to overcome your evil through great effort?

I only recently found out that:

Becoming

is so much more beautiful than

Being

An emptiness grows
As I watch the world burning.
I wish man was good.

Perfectly sweet
Enamoring treat
Affectionately
Conconcoted to please
Have a slice with tea-

Complimentary
Oh, my heart, she fleets
But thinking of thee
Brings shakes to my knees
Like none other seen
Eat up, and in glee
Return for serve three

One million grains of Sand
Hitched a ride home from the beach

Hidden in the folds of my clothes
And from my locks, down to my feet



These one million grains of You
Just aren't enough memories

I heard your laugh in a dream last night
And was carried back out to sea