my friend, Dan, is a poet. He writes amazing stuff that borders on legendarily sick. i’ve often thought that good words are words that stick in your mind looooong after you’ve read them, and so many of Dan’s words fill mine.
Dan’s the man who gives me flight when my wings are jaded.
Recently, Dan wrote an amazing piece called “Yours Faithfully, Poet”. Albeit an AWFUL (capital) subject matter, it was an f’in amazing piece, and the words that stuck in my head most for weeks after reading it, was this:
“because peace is the absence of reality
and he’s addicted to life”.
I don’t know much about Dan in the traditional sense of the term “knowing someone”, but I know Dan. He’s one of my oldest friends, even though all we have are quiet words on screens.
Dan’s been mad at me before, but he wrote, despite my leaving, and I’m glad.
It matters to me.
“You wrote because you cared
and that’s all that I cared about.
That’s all that I care about”
I probably don’t say it enough, probably have never said it but thank you