There's No Light Like

There is no light like the glow of a candle when it’s raining outside my window. There’s no sweat but the sweat of a type A insomniac the night before a test And absolutely no fingers nimble as those of writer’s subconscious streams There’s no dark like the dusk of an evening In autumn before December 22nd, winter solstice, I’ll never remember the dark of the night when I fell There’s no red like the red on the head of a girl Who won’t subside, won’t listen, won’t succumb. There’s no hair on the girl who rebels. There’s no light but the candles lit on Christmas All other light is meaningless. There’s no light on the eve of Christmas Except when you pretend the tiny specks can lift you out of your outlook. There’s no autumn except when it’s raining inside There’s winter if there is no depression And no summer without sweat, and lifeless longing For anything but where I am today And it always goes back to the same old same old I’ll study art till my eyes drip but it won’t be the same I’m writing about three poems a day now, not that they’re any good. I’m crying three times a day now, that it’s for any particular reason. I’ve died three times in my life already—not that you care! Everything becomes a poem when you want it to be! Words mean ten times more when you’re alone, So stay alone and discover the meaning of life.