For Medium Writers’ And Readers’ Eyes Only
I want books
mountains of books decaying all around me
with me their empathies crackling into vanilla powder
because even though life’s short and then nothing
a well-rounded education of others’ famous thoughts
is an enlightened enough use of your amusement time.
Thank A Writer
you sleep to get your eight hours and keep the yawns away
when earning your bread and rent.
meanwhile a lightbulb in the window
illuminates at night the three am goings-on
in a corner office apartment square
with a writer hunched at the desk
computer glowing against a silhouette
writing the things we would all be reading
in breakfast newspapers and lunch break website pages.
google owes every writer money
for the search engine assistance they’ve provided
with their copious quests for synonyms
fact-checks and trips to self-education
relevant to their daily paragraphs.
golden hours are for poets
leave us alone and don’t knock on our doors
till we turn on the lights.
leaded coffee is penance for the writer spilling everyone’s secrets
dark and hard pummeling tastebuds with black sewage gulps
bringing your sewers to life with funneled caffeine fumes
and dehydrating turbo boosts straight to your neuronry
for typing out all it’s got this morning
and three hours later in a sudden onslaught you are moribund
desperately starving but not hungry