therapy

for the longest time poetry has been my escape. i write some. i appreciate some. but from my view, poetry is my therapy.

if i have something to say that requires me to bare my innermost emotions, something that requires me to dig deep down in the deepest bowels of my true self... i do poetry.

it's when i do poetry that i am at my best. because this is the only form of expression that i am capable of nothing but honesty.

those few precious seconds when you bare your thoughts and your soul in front of everyone else, and you feel naked and honest to the point of vulnerability.... that is poetry.

***

Junkie

Not a minute passes by
Without my fingers
Letting me know
Of the itch it feels.

The kind of itch that
Needs to be ignored
And yet
Needs to be scratched.

The kind of itch that
Has a mind of its own,
That reaches for the keyboard
And speaks of its own heart.

The kind of itch that
Lives in a world of its own,
That exists in shadows of guilt and anonymity
And speaks of its own heart.

The kind of itch that
I will dare not have again.

An itch
That lingers in the past
Has no grasp of the present
And longs for the future.

Then I would have to say,
“No,”
“Please,”
I will not have a second serving
Of your fingers.