Call it a “jones”, an “itch”
A desire for a quick fix to ease the pricks
Call it a hobby, a leisure, a feature pastime
A way to wind down, relax and float
Easy navigation through the plush clouds of my mental notes can I
Tell you why I write? Can I compel you
To hear me, even if it’s just the story of my life?
Can I share my plight? Or is this generation only enthralled by a fight?
Well I’m enthralled by my “Mr. Right”, my lyrical gun
The tool of creation, styling my thoughts into the words of the sun
Aiding my yearning...providing my fix.
I write so I can feed my addiction
this Poison Pen feeds my need and desire
to seek, see and understand
every circumstance that happens that transpires
even if only by chance
I give in to my need to infect the world
with my insatiable passion...this urge to feed...my addiction...
and writing...is my fix
I write so my soul can soar
higher than the highest high
blue wave, purple haze...fantasy…red birds…
chronic...can't elevate my words
the depth of my soul feeds my affliction...
no longer a victim with broken defenses
rather vindicated by my lines
not white and not always in rhyme
but always and forever mine...and always
right on time...this fix to my itch
Jitters and critters creepy crawly
Crawling the walls of my deep insight
clawing the hallowed halls of
my minds eye...wondering, pondering
my direction...I am led...so I must lead...
I write so as to feed my shakes and shake
up a world that yearns to be
also my fix...
I write to release the me that
that is depleted
of kind things
that have no meaning
finding words that only
those that have suffered...can truly understand
that I'm holding their hand...
Daughter of a mighty man...A King who invites my spirit
to write...so I do...and I’m lit like a candlestick…it’s my fix...
Timeeshah (c) 2013