THE WRITER

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.