I have to write.
I stare at this blank page
and it stares back
taunts me.
It feeds off me
like a leech it
feast on my fears for breakfast
and sips my anxiety like tea.
Never satisfied
until I write.
So here I sit
Staring through this open window
waiting for the magic.
From a home I can’t explain
neighbor of imagination
down the block from love
Or is it hate.
Next to the house that always cooks barbecue.
That smell that sweeps the block
through open windows
love hate relationship with your belly
as it fights for something more.
Yet, here I sit
waiting for the magic.
Watching this orange fuck
slowly crush our stars
gathering Universal’s Minions
calling himself Gru
wasting on a par 4
stealing candy from unborn babies
from the home that he
is burning to the ground.
Closing our window
after only a few months
He,
We.
Need to-
Look for the magic.
Gather fingertips
the window is still open
Jump.
Don’t fly
We still have to fight.
So
Here I stand.
Writing
silent page.
Starting at the open window.
Needing to make humans think
think twice
and tell them a lie
that this window
Will always be open.
Saint's Muse 