I am a writer-
I am human first-
but writer second-
though sometimes the two do get mixed up.
I have been known from time to time to question my humanity-
but no matter what side of the bed I woke up on today-
I wake up folded in the arms of one constant truth-
I am a writer.
I can write poetry that will make you swoon-
I can even make you fall in love with me
or somebody else-
without even opening my mouth
or reaching inside of my wallet-
I can paint a picture made of dreams-
you and me-
we're like two peas in a pod-
we can climb a mountain
or reach out for the stars-
we might even touch them
or maybe we'll go to the moon-
just put your two lips together
and whistle-
you don't have to pray-
just have a little faith
because I got it like that-
I'm a writer, see.
You stand next to me
and we can do it all-
sky high
or mountain tall-
just don't piss me off
and make me kill you-
I don't even have to have a reason
for I am a writer and it's in my nature to make somebody die
It's how I roll
and should I choose the avenue on which you're standing around
taking up space and doing nothing but wasting air and concrete
you best believe that I am going to roll right over and flatten your ass like a pancake
oooooh, pancakes-
is it breakfast time?
Is it break time?
Of course-
that's all life really is-
break time-
you're either breaking time-
or time's breaking you.
Every day people break their backs-
only to be stabbed there by the hands of the grim reaper-
that's why we all have to make our mark-
before we get marked-
Me?
I write.
Writing can be many things-
It can be therapy-
It can be joy-
It can be sweeter than a pair of sugar tits filled with high fructose corn syrup-
but something that many people do not realize
is that writing is work-
these tend to be people who can't read-
or write-
or both.
Fuck them.
The world needs less of these types anyway.
Writing is work-
whether you're writing about the Gettysburg address
or a blood stain left on the dress of the woman you loved so much that it made you put a steak knife through her neck-
It's all work-
and even that blood stain comes out in the wash-
because no matter how many times you find yourself stabbing that woman in the crimson coated dress-
it's only on the page-
and in your head-
so be rest assured those blood stains will never end up on the floor.
Not if you are a writer-
like me.
Maybe you are simple-
and what could be more simple than composing an ode to tater tots?
If that is what you were born to write-
then you were born, right?
You're here-
so write.
Note to my own self that I wish to throw in a copyer and give to every single person who has ever written-
You are a writer.
Yes, writing is work-
it's working the heart-
mind-
soul-
and fingers all at once.
Sometimes writers break their backs-
and maybe even find themselves pierced by the sharpened boney fingers of that grim reaper guy.
But a writer never dies.
We live-
we write-
and then-
we go on living-
for forever.
