I wish I was full of creative explosions.
I wish I could burst my heart
And run it into ink.
I wish that writing
Didn’t sometimes feel like pulling a splinter
From my skin.
I want it to crack open and spew out
Like a burst fire hydrant in the summer.
I want to be that person who wakes up at 3am and throws up my thoughts.
It needs to be impulsive.
A spur of that moment.
Because I’m tired of waiting for my juices to flow
Like that of a dorment tap
In the heat of a drought.
I will love you forever; whatever happens. Until I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, until I find you again.
And tomorrow, nobody will notice. I’ll wear a big smile, I’ll tell them that I’m just tired, that I didn’t sleep very well lately.