We all needed poetry for what they could never say.
I need it to continually breathe the air back into my lungs, because I can smell the words they didn’t give you. And we’re all starving, and you sit here thinking you’re hungry, and I need poets.
And now I suffocate while waiting with every desire in me to keep breathing.
To me they are trees and if you don’t see the colors or shades in them, well all I see in you is gasoline. And I still thank you for stealing the earths flames to give me a sheet to spill on.
I need this today and tomorrow, for my lungs and my eyes. And today you look as washed out as the prettiest clear sky.