I Am not a drinker
If not I would have claimed that
Bottles help me write.

Sometimes i feel like
I have done it all
But maybe its not me
Its the silk that’s unwilling
To cover my feet.

There are sweetness in his blazing
Admiration of kind mind that winds
So, why halt? when the symphony
Of grasp still commence,
I can see the shadow line of where

Is this it
Is this love or desperation
Is this how it feels to be dunked
Empty bowl
My heart never really flutters

I have spread the sheet to my bed
Now that there is no more experien
Now there is no more poetry, and n
There is nothing new to write abou
Under the sun or far away from bey

I know
Something
That could
Do the
Trick

Love me with no range; and never p
Through me, love me like a gate an
Cease to open me, love me like a m
Same and exact with no compromise.
Love me peacefully like bodies dro

Merely is the bread, wine and thy
Thou countenance, thou eyes and th
It works in harmony its thou sense
The weariness is the achievement m
Its the effort of thou pain all be

Poetry
Poetry is for the weak
The clean and tucked in worker beh
Poetry is for the lazy
The fragile breeds with a right ha

I have love life
The same eversince:
I have love the hard
Spent days when money
shows no favour,