we the ones who love so deeply

the messy lovers and the hardtogets

our thoughts are never linear 

or follow a pattern or tune 

we don’t fight off darkness 

we embrace it and use it to our advantage 

selfishly grabbing all we can 

we write to stay alive 


and to keep a grasp on our sanity 

although, when was sanity ever useful

we spill our secrets and give so much of ourselves 

to be immortalized in another?

to hope for love in the future 

but without hope for the future

hope is dangerous, so we run with arms outstretched 

like my typewriter, my heart is running out of ink

I’ve grazed my knees falling over myself 

just for love


do we spiral towards pain or passion for more ink

is searching for these things self destructive

or are we simply finding new material?


One thought on “we

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