The Wandering

i carry regret like a wolf on my back, naturally

clawing its way to the depths of my bones. 

i measure my life by the number of empty

pens lying in my trash can.

last night my mother awoke in the middle of a

nightmare and saw me writing;

she said the air was crisp with the vague scent

of dried blood and whiskey

and i licked away the remnants of my salty tears

and embraced the warmth that they left behind.

what are we here for?

i set my alarms to see sunsets and bask

in the beauty of their deaths, to watch the moon

bathe the graveyard of the sun in silver.

i see my life in wine reds and hollow blacks,

mirroring the tragedy of my rusting mind.

now, i’ve been told i romaticize things and tonight,

i’m too tired to deny it 

so i write on and on, 

no, this feels too artificial,

so i rip it off and repeat it

until my poems start to look like

bill receipts and the skin on my fingers

is peeling off and i feel it-

that i am not meant to be

and this disparity between what’s right,

what i want, and what i need.

i once read somewhere that

life is no paragraph and death is not a 

parenthesis,

but as i stare harder into my notepad,

the lines all blurring into one,

i finally realize it.

when i was born, i started a sentence,

and breathing through a series of semi colons,

i have to live to finish it.

.

I’ve decided to give HONEST reviews for poetry and other short writing. Of course, I’m not an expert, but I read and write a lot and have tried a few different styles and I think I may be able to help out passionate beginners (and anyone else, really) who are looking to genuinely improve their writing content and expression. 

If you are however looking only for pleasant compliments, I suggest you do not ask me because I can’t promise you one. But I will do my best to tell you good and bad points and how to get better. And please do NOT spam me with total bullshit.

So yeah, if you want some genuine constructive criticism on your writing, message me privately with a picture of a couple of your works.