Walk in the shadows of poets
Writing bleeds me
Words are drugs
Sentences of therapy
Writing because of a need as one does
Like to stop at a guess…..yes
Have no need for the poetic seed
Find something else for my personal greed
Walk away and find another way with this life to pay
Every poem takes
Every poem breaks
Every poem forsakes
No room or time to negotiate
It's no good
But at I am bloody good
Poor but wealthy
Loving rapped up in hostility
God cursed
Demons praised
When they saw my lost half smiling gaze
I would be lying saying I have no regrets
Learning to walk in the shadows of poets
DSL
