I burn with nothing to write
but these pages somehow
keep filling
and filling
like gas tanks at the corner store
     Inking these pages full
Of boredom and the money goes somewhere
out there
and i sweat and slowly sell my soul
with the nameless beside me
for a small check on friday
just to give away
it's very meaningless
that's very obvious
but not many people seem to notice,
or care.
Thank the Gods for the few
who have to ability
to raise the hairs on my back,
put me into a rage,
set my soul on fire with passion.
I've known all along
that there's a difference between
other people and me and at
first i really didn't care for this difference
but now, though i sit here alone and half suicidal
waiting on someone some angel some grace
I'm grateful not to be just another face in the crowd
so to all those who've helped me
and hurt me, who's held me
and burnt me
i send a nice warm bitter and big
THANK YOU.

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