|Posted on October 22, 2014 at 7:20 PM|
& When I set up, sit down,
To write the next great American short story.
I have a drink,
Strictly to get the juices flowing.
& when the river halts, I flood it.
& when the dam bursts & putting paper to pen went in vain,
I celebrate my humanness.
It’s a give and take.
For the river always flows poem to paper;
Rarely story to paper.
But when it flows,
It is beautiful.
“The only way you’d fall is if you jumped.”
That’s why you’re afraid of ledges
Because a tiny part of you wants to jump.
And you fear that man inside your head,
Telling you how easy life would finally be.
But I dangle off the ledge, because I’m not afraid.
I’m already dead.