addicted to the word
when the last line is written when the last rhyme is pulled from the bowels of that… place when the brain burn and the message is to my liking for now i will return to the folded arms comfort of night pick out a star and float to it sleep unlike the wicked warmth of tequila or cocaine's almost passive attempts to own me the word is my true addiction the insidious hold it has drawing me in calling to me every waking moment i fear the whispers will not end in death and I shall face an eternity living the nightmare of an incomplete batch of words that hold the key to my missing life
Free Verse
Philosophical
4
0
Deckard
I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...
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