I Write Because

I write because When I put pen to paper I can be a tree’s trembling heart When an axe is about to hit it Or a dog’s warm heart When his Papa returns every night I can be my old man’s weak heart Living his last days Or a little girl’s cheerful one When she

Hoarders

Heart Inc.

When we are in loveWith oneself or someone elseThere are some workers in our heartWho process everything we feelInto a thing of beautyBut when our heart is brokenDoes these workers go on a lockdownDoes the creation of beauty comes to a haltNot really,It just slows downAs the workers now divideOne half keep creating beautyStimulated byMemes

A Study In Extremes