been cursing at this page for hours
yet, no words
i blame the hundred sheets, wide rule composition book.
it's you, and the lines
that leave no room to breathe
there are plenty to worry about
but we choose not knowing
we smile animosity, laugh hatred
kiss tears, in this orgy of mistrust
i scream at this piece of paper
cause i can't scream at you
my blue knuckles can't break every bone in your face
and leave you in a pool of broken promises
my fingernails cut into this sentence
like you cut into me
tearing flesh
chew my pencil, spit your bones
love you more than you'll ever know, i write.
i draw the moon, and pretend
that we look upon it
two stick-figures holding hands
we're happy, like we should be.
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