Ok, So in an attempt to preserve my stanzas (my precious, my prrrrecious) I'm resorting to inserting quotation marks (Like these;... " " " ... tada!) to break the poem up. Ok? ok.

Giving birth to words, letters, shapes;

infinite possibilities to hurt and wound –

they say words can't bleed, but

(trust me, darling)

they can cut



Easy manipulation; a lazy

Sunday with white paper hopes to be

slashed, the black of gullible treachery.

intoxicated with ink, tattoos (or scars) on your soul.


They say you can never trust a liar or

a writer,

both too prone to exaggerations.

But then I always reply;

'At least the writers make their

deceptions beautiful.'