The pen must be
 mightier than the sword
 For there is nothing that
 will spill your guts faster
 than a bit of ink that says


I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first

The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

Under the weight of life I forget how to breathe and I feel suffocated I hesitantly make peace with the world

I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything

If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing