Saturday nights
wide awake...

I stand here,
my heart in my hands...

Simple little poems,
jokes etched in a wrist...

Stars fall into the sea,
come away; away with me...

So many things unsaid,
so many words to write...

Can you taste the irony?
Feel the weight of the world on your head...

In a lovely land
you stand...

To whom it may concern;
i didn't mean to take the knife...

These every night
broken lullabies...

We're making up names
for our silly little...

There's this street-corner word
that we all seem to need...

For some reason, these words are blocked from me,
No poems need to pour out...