Some More Bad Poetry

If I can’t post it here, well….

Anyway, I wanted to give you guys SOMETHING original, since that hasn’t happened in so long. So, sorry for the sap…


In this moment
Fog glassed window
Cool breeze pinking my cheeks
I know, sure as the sparkling stone on my hand
That this is where we’re
Meant to be.
All the raining doubt
Means nothing
In the downpour of my love.
And in the steel of your eyes
I see the one
Who’s heart met mine
And brought everything to


I never realize how bad
it’s gotten until pen
and paper make love,
their offspring the words of
my insanity.
Every syllable a hint
of the depravity so
barely maintained.
And from this pen flows
a magic even I don’t
A healing, virtuous stroke
of ink on the paper
of my psyche.

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