I am in New Jersey on a family emergency. I only available intermittently if at all, so please understand if I don’t respond to you. Thank you to everyone that’s been around, I am incredibly lucky to have the circle of friends and family that I do.
It will continue. Horrible things have happened and I need to be there with her.
I’m going to go back to college to study engineering.
I’m going to study medicine and find out
how those little pads they put on sick people work.
I’m going to stay up all night studying
until I know absolutely everything there is to know
about bodies and wires
and then I’m going to build a machine that lets me take someone else’s pain
and I will take everything you’re feeling
away from you
I will take
every piece of broken glass in your heart
and put it into mine
because you have become a bigger part of me
than I am to myself
because being able to take your pain for you
is the only thing that’ll make me feel better.
So I’m going back to college.
The big wooden heart
We keep in the hallway
Fell over and made the loudest noise
And I cried
I was dreaming
I was driving down the highway
With the top down
And each bump in the road
Was a kick drum
And I was without you
And it felt like I was
Covered in flames
I woke up
When the wooden heart fell
And had a shower
And the post-it notes
You left on the mirror
Like leaves in a river
Wake up and come home
I want to tell you
It’ll all be ok
You’re the only one I’ve told
Why I can’t tell anyone
I’ve read every book in this house
Listened to every song
I’ve played all these games before
And I don’t have the guts to start
Building a model ship without you
If there’s something in this house
That’ll make me happy
I haven’t found it yet
And every stranger at the mall
Looks at me and asks
“Who are you missing? Why are you here?”
And I wish there was a way to eat alone, with other people, without them seeing you.
And when you drink whiskey out the bottle, the hill you’re standing on gets steeper.
I wrote down a sentence
“A poem is just a song you don’t sing,”
And I think I’ll make that one a song
And I wish I could tell you that in person
There’s snow on the mountains
It’s beautiful, crisp and sunny in Cape Town
I hope it’s better in New York.
Amanda, I saw the man you’re going to marry
Just hours before you
He was laying his head down
“Moon, tell Amanda I saw you and remind her that when she sees you,
she must remember that our eyes saw the same light,
(no matter how far apart
Amanda, the man you’re going to marry
feeds the dogs and the cat
and he doesn’t mind
because he spends his time
“Moon, tell Amanda that time passes differently, it goes slower when we’re far
and too fast when we’re not,
things are always changing,
(but at least,
Amanda, the man you’re going to marry
hates how quiet the house is
and the animals crowd around
when your voice
“Moon, tell Amanda, the man who’s going to marry her
he misses her
(and he knows
Write about something that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Write about something that makes you worry what other people will think.
Write with black ink on a white page in a quiet room, so you can hear the nib tattooing the paper.
Write with your headphones on, bashing away at the keyboard, angrily.
Write in the speech bubbles that come off a comic book character’s head.
Write a short play about the inner turmoil that dominated your misspent youth.
Write a violent critique of a self-indulgent play about the inner-turmoil that dominated a misspent youth.
Write to try and sound like Hemingway, Saul Williams, Bukowski, EE Cummings, Adam Duritz, Rumi, Alan Watts or someone else.
Write to try and capture your own unique voice and take on things.
And if one day, there’s nothing left to write about, then that’s the exciting part.
Because the need to write, will remain, and that’s when you’ll finally write