if you are ever at a bus
stop then take a good look at the person not standing near
everyone and know that this person is a
writer. know that their hands are in
pain and know that they have cried themselves
dry in front of darkened
mirrors because they can’t stand the sight of
themselves. know that the night into which their lover
fled is that which owns their
soul. they know much more than
you yet they would give anything
not to understand. they’re wearing long sleeves for a
reason and they are taking the
bus only because they know that their life has no
purpose, no more than that of an abandoned
cigarette. know that these people with the very melancholy
eyes and the pigeon-toed
feet are writers and that they will love
you even when they can’t
love themselves.

I feel helpless,
I don't know what to do,
how to get rid of this sad feeling :
I feel helpless...

it's going around and around in my head
and it won't stop
i am so exhausted by all these words
i am so sick of writing, my one true love
i want okay things
i want calmer words filled with more serenity
forget this overreacting bitter agony
i want beautiful poetry
my pain is making it impossible
i am so tired of just whining
why can't i....?