“Write her a poem, spill your heart to her in sweet cadences; but I didn’t know how to write poetry. It was love and dove with me, bad rhymes, blundering sentiment. Oh Christ in Heaven, I’m no writer: I can’t even put down a little quatrain. I’m no good in this world. I stood at the window and waved my hands at the sky; no good at all, just a cheap fake; neither writer nor lover; neither fish nor fowl.”
Published by kendalllacey
"The nature of uncarved blocks, is how to describe what's hard to describe." Welcome to my world of poems, poets, dreams, dreamers, music and movies. I love Manic Street Preachers, Jonas Brothers, Sylvia Plath, Bret Easton Ellis, WWE, AEW, KISS, My Chemical Romance, Disney, Batman, Steinbeck, Wilde, Camus, Rimbaud, Eli Roth, FINNEAS and Mike Wazowski. View all posts by kendalllacey