My heart is no ashtray
It's more like an urn
It holds onto what matters
Long after it burns

My poetry starts with a single cell that multiplies quickly
and spreads like hell

Words intoxicate me
like a really cheap wine
And I think silly thoughts
that I turn into rhymes

Some of it's good
A lot of it's bad
But it's the only DNA
I'll ever have

When your pockmarked and blue, no one wants you
When you're frigid and airless, no one could care less
When home's a million miles away, you don't expect anyone to stay
But when your closest friend's the sun,
why would you need anyone?

Salmon swim upstream
Instinct drives them to create
Knowing death awaits