I don’t write them like I used to
they’re not carved out of my bone
the way they used to be
I don’t bleed over the carpet
in some mouldy rented bathroom
like I used to
They used to say it was the angst that drove me
some mild flair for painting what had pained me
but you have to make peace eventually
I don’t know what is driving this anymore
At the end of that final line there’s an ellipsis
at the end of all I said there’s an ellipsis
saying so much more than I
Now, I don’t sweat it out in twisted sheets
with cramped heart and cracked beliefs
surrendering my barbed emotions like a flag
the way I used to
I don’t tap that vein of pure unfocused bile
don’t let it gush across the front row of my imagined audience
they don’t say much about my unbridled verse these days
like they used to
At the end of every poem there’s an ellipsis
at the end of all I said there’s an ellipsis
dragging on and on
It speaks louder than I ever could…
Thanks for reading.
The Lighthouse 