Spare Change

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

I want words to live

Not splashed with formaldehyde-

Dried, ink stained into the page.

For me, this shit’s therapy,

Leaking memory

Through metaphors and simile.

Life changes on a dime.

My mind’s sick

A disease makes me write anything upon it.

I open my mouth

Never know what it’s going to be.

Attack the industry

With life blood pen trickles;

Ordered, symbolic ventricles.

It floods my brain.

Let’s maintain this relationship

Of reader and writer.

Watch yourself in these lines like a mirror,

I’ll record my environment.

Together we’ll make it

Through the world

Dime by dime.

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