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Dear Mr. Shabazz--

I knew you were going to be my hero
The moment my APUSH teacher scoffed at you
And dismissed you as "violent."

That's how I knew you were important.

here i am,

foolishly trying to describe

the feeling of sitting up

high in an oak

and writing poetry.

here i am,

watching the sunset

above long green grass

and typing into an ugly

I am a poet. I take the words and I turn them on their heads until the juice runs out. It is red and sweet, like strawberries. I sit cross-legged on lilypads, watching meaning watercolor itself onto the pond. I rust like clockwork in the rain.

I'm sorry—

Sorry that I keep getting stuck in that well;

Sorry for always relying on your rope;

Sorry for putting all my guts on display;

Sorry for influencing you to decide like me;

I'm a bit of an avid reader, more recently than in the past. Found a lot of really good books lately and thought I'd share a few of them: 

1. Introduction 

In the dialogue Cratylus, Socrates professed, “There is nothing worse than self-deception—when the deceiver is at home and always with you” (Plato, 1953, p. 374).