The letter
I've sent to you last day,
I realized
it won't be read by you.
You've gone from the words
I wrote to.

The letter
I've sent to you last day,
I realized
it won't be read by you.
I never try to write my feeling for,
because there is nothing to write for.

Hello Poetry!
I have decided to keep
My poems here.
Rather a few be read
Than keep the lot
Penned up waiting in a sales ring
With no buyers,
Starvation coming....

My heart is pounding
It’s pounding so hard
Inside my chest
I’m afraid it’s gonna
Break up my chest

* message opened 3 minutes ago
I told him i loved him
And he left me unread
Maybe He is thinking
About how to say that
He loves me too or
Maybe it’s not true
Maybe he won’t even
Be friends anymore

message opened 43 minutes ago*

He’s not gonna answer
Me...

there is a book within my heart
of poems you've never seen
poems you've never read
poems you'll never read.
and from deep within my heart
with my pen of black ink
i hope that you might read them
and say that you still love me.


― i'm afraid not everything i write is pretty

I'm still here,
waiting for your reply.
It's been months, hasn't it?
This conversation's never gonna die.

What shall I write about?
So of what shall be my account?
This or that? Shall I take you on a magical
Journey through time and space?
Shall I take you to Mars and we can
Explore the rocky red place?
Is there some kind of time machine that
We can get in and find out what will
Happen in the future that might take place?
Maybe I will write to you of my real life, how I feel,
This would be an empty poem, so I shall impress
My audience with a pretend show. I'm really not
Going to be rich or famous unless I put on that
Endlessly addictive yet unreal neon glow...

Thanks society! Thanks prudes! Thanks extremists! Thanks money!