and the day wrote itself

hands gripping pens across america 

setting down sadness and all her cousins

upon blank white pages 

and blue lined notebooks 

flowing blood into voids and giving life

will this sustain you paper heart?

or do you hunger yet for the tips still wet 

to drain themselves in this pursuit 

for some young lean thing with heavy dreams

to draw road maps in concrete

well all my life i’ve been your lover 

and i still can’t tell if you’re a vampire or a leech

either way you whisper more 

and penetrate me with the light that shines from off your face 

and draw out everything inside 

that i was keeping in some hidden place