Writing is like bleeding

It numbs the feeling


The relief written on these sheets

Of paper

As I wake up

To w world still asleep

The pen now a cursor

Just another precursor

To another freshly burned night

The road rash way to cash

Looks much different from your side of the glass

Half full?

No, I’m barely empty enough

For this life to fill me

Up in the stars or beneath these clouds

My thought crash in like the full moons tide

Shifted weight in my molecules I know

So much more

Than a qwerty keyboard

Quill and scroll


Viva Voce

That’s latin for oral tradition

Which is layman for another thing suffering from the binary clutch

Suffocating our traditions

With the praise of inhibitions

That inhabit our subculture

Masquerading as truth, liberty,

And the pursuit of prescriptions.

Prescribe to me joy

Prescribe to me peace

Oh great physician heal thyself so you may properly set free

The prisoners of your Rx nation

Who lacks manifesto


And especially


Stay tuned to the station

Giving life to a nation

Of sleepwalking souls who may never wake

No matter how many times they post “#StayWoke”

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