Jonathan Douglas Duran

I am a murder of crows pecking away at your childhood dreams.
If you are looking towards the end, I am the very last thing.
I am writing a book in my head that no one will read.
I am a father with no child
I am giving birth to everything
I am a word with no letters
I am n o t h i n g

I am an atom bomb of new ideas just waiting to sing
I am church service full of libertines
I am amused by all the muses I will never see

I’m a slave to addiction who’s awake in a dream and I cannot let go of anything
I can’t escape so I just SCREAM
Stuck in the ground, stalled in my mind
I spin my wheels, trying to think myself free
But I’ve connected speakers to my suicide and I can hear everything

(Uncap your pens and fight for the first page you see!
Spill black blood, red blood, blue or green!
It does not matter, write anything!)

I am a cancer burning behind your eyes
I am the blood of youth in an old disguise
I am chaos and order
I am crooked and straight
I am everything you hate waiting to be eaten off your plate
I am this phrase
I am this ink
I am oblivion
I am never complete
I am semen, cracked and dried
I am a virus
I am going to die
I am living in stasis
I am living a lie
I am keeping up appearances
I am faking this life
I am not poetry
I am not song
I am not art
I am done.




I am back
I am legion
I am one
I am zen
I am a godless godlike goddead man
I am the fire that flares up again.