Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

Then I thought, "No, I broke it myself. I broke it on purpose to pay myself back for being such a heel.

Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.

Spiderlike, I spin mirrors, Loyal to my image.

The thing about writing is not to talk, but to do it; no matter how bad or even mediocre it is, the process and production is the thing, not the sitting and theorizing about how one should write ideally, or how well one could write if one really wanted to or had the time.

Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.