Today I simply feel the need to admire other poets...

I feel a total lack of inspiration for my own personal writing, and when this happens the best thing to do is to just read.

"Like a secret screamed into a late night taxi"

"Low winter sun vignetted the room"

"Like a gambler flicking his wrist drawing fate closer"

"Sunlight breaking the bones behind my eyes"

"Ashes fall from his cigarette like astericks"

"Where the ocean licks her flesh"

"Why hesitate like an older man's hand on my thigh"

Now if only I could write like that... Anna Journey is officially my new heroo!