I’m pheening for words
Wringing shaking hands
Touching tapping fingers to glands
Wondering if I’m getting sick
Needing the fix
Worse than nicotine
Worse than anything I’ve ever dreamed
I am an addict
Addicted to poetry
Seriously
It’s better at disseminating pain
Than a couple of oxy’s
Excises emotional puss
Drains the wound
And let’s me sleep
Phrases pound baseline
Walking through Wal-Mart
Beating memories into
Works of art
I wish I’d done this kind of purging
Since the start
But I never knew
This therapy
To write a poem and weep
And let all the sap seep out the soul
Into the rhymes on pages
glad I didn’t wait till old age
To write thought
Like It was passed from sages
Still so
Surprised words of wisdom
Sprang from these inner cages.
Want to write
Work tonight
So my addiction
Will have to wait
Maybe this obsession started as addiction
But now it’s more
Now it’s love sending self Love
Loving self above
The wars in the streets.
Poetry addict,
I’m doing lines in bathrooms. These
Words heal wounds like waves.