Hunched over the desk, I write,
Struggling to communicate
My ideas, fears and beliefs.
Heart and soul on display
Each word is pondered and polished,
Mined for its meaning and mystery --
My blood upon the page
A bid for immortality
But as books molder,
Words and memories fade.
Immortality is left to chance
Or resurrection
Why write, then? Why bleed
With no one to remember?
I write to quiet my soul,
To ease the blade in my heart.
Life not only possible, but bliss.
Don't know why he's clothed in the shower, and don't care.
Freaking LOVE this picture!
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