Apartment 281 – It has to be Written Because It Can’t be Said

I write, but I wouldn’t call myself a writer.
Most of what I’ve written
are the things other people have already said
that I just happened to hear and wanted to
make more memorable.

I have a half-full notebook
lined with words of other people and
when I fill it up I think I’ll just throw it away. Or burn it.
No need to keep a reminder
that I made a living using real writers’ garbage –
their throw-away lines that
sound so good I instinctively
whisper the word “fuck” because the
freak genius in their words makes me wish I had
been brilliant enough myself
to come up with what I’ve seen.

I’ll fill the notebook and throw it away.
Turn a new leaf and start
quoting myself instead of someone else.