this poem
don’t be afraid that someone is reading this
quit caring what others think.
this is for you
this poem is for you.
this poem is for all those tears you couldn’t cry
this poem is for all that pain you harbor in your gut
this poem is for everything and everything.
this poem is for your mom that’s slowly dying without that kidney.
this poem is for your sister who possesses a greater heart and spirit than you will ever have
this poem is for your dad who can conquer the world with his kindness and smile
this poem is for your tragic inability to cry in front of people
this poem is for you and only for you
this poem is dedicated to your spirit.
this poem is dedicated to your unwavering hope in people
this poem is dedicated to your compassion
this poem is dedicated to the unending pain and loneliness that you feel.
this poem will cure all of that.
this poem will end it.
this poem is not a poem
this poem is just the ramblings of a inconsolable and neurotic insomniac.
but i write because it cures.
i write because it helps.
i write because it’s the only thing that ever has.
other than sleep.
sleep is just the mental runaway from yourself.
writing is the face-to-face contact with yourself.
with your emotions
you get to touch it
you get to slip your words into its messiness as you pull up sentences
in the middle of the night.
night time. the moon rises. the moon stays. the moon shines.
words seem to only come out best when the moon is watching overhead
it’s as if the emotions jumbles itself into indecipherable tangles that can only be unwound at the supervision of the moon
sentences tumble out as the jumbles uncrumbles itself
and lays it self on this page
fragmented
needing stitches to make it comprehensible
to make it real
to make it part of me
this poem
this piece
is not really a poem
or a piece
it’s more of a stream of thoughts
that can never stop
