I have an addiction;
And every night, I feel like I’m going through withdrawals.
I’m shaking and sweating;
And it’s getting…worse.
I need to do a line,
To write one I mean.
I need to pull up my sleeve and make a fist
And inject this pen tip into my wrist,
So words can flow through my veins and down my fingertips.
And I bleed all the results of my need onto the paper.
Yes I need to do this.
I need to write.
I need to write a poem.
I need to about how America is a melting pot but we’re all too busy to stir.
I need to write about how soldiers lose their brothers and come home with what’s left over.
I need to write about why we where crosses around our necks when crucifixes signify death.
I need to write about how I want to scrub the world on my hands and knees, but can’t because I don’t want to risk catching its disease.
I need to write about how I married poetry without a pre-nup.
Because I know if we break-up…she’ll take custody of our two kids, wisdom and insight.
I need to write about mother’s being fathers and fathers being martyrs.
I need to write about how drug-heads should lay in bed
And smoke shreds of my poetry
Or do a line of my lines, until they get high off my lyrical genius.
I need to write about how we are all born by a female but yet we still live in a man’s world.
I need to write about how now-a-days there is no distinction between a woman and a girl.
I need to write about how the recession is just another excuse.
I need to write about being homeless because home is where the heart is.
I need to write about how babies destined for greatness get slaughtered, sucked out, and fleshed away before their first breaths.
I need to write about Willie Lynch and Jim Crow.
I need to write about Hitler and Stalin.
I need to write about taking back our righteous minds.
I need to write about having an empty space where a heart should be.
I need to write about the other 85% of our brains since studies say humans only use 15.
I need to write about how slavery was abolished but black people still buy whips and chains.
I need to write about how I would lay in a ditch to be stoned or carry a cross to my own crucifixion if it meant we would believe in each other more.
I need to write about the pretty flowers whose absent fathers are the water they need to grow.
I need to write about how teachers are master gardeners that plant seeds of knowledge deeply rooted in our minds and pull up the weeds that try to shorten our bright futures.
I need to write about being alone because the people with money bought all the friends left.
I need to write about the rich being loveless since money can’t buy love.
I need to write the stories of all the sore losers since love is a losing game.
I need to write about being a loser since the good guy never wins.
I need to write.
I need to. I need to. I need-
My addiction is inevitable.
And every night, I feel like I’m going through withdrawals.
I’m shaking and sweating;
And it’s getting…worse.
I need to do a line,
To write one I mean.
I need to pull up my sleeve and make a fist
And inject this pen tip into my wrist,
So words can flow through my veins and down my fingertips.
And I bleed all the results of my need onto the paper.
Yes I need to do this.
I need to write.
I need to write a poem.
I need to about how America is a melting pot but we’re all too busy to stir.
I need to write about how soldiers lose their brothers and come home with what’s left over.
I need to write about why we where crosses around our necks when crucifixes signify death.
I need to write about how I want to scrub the world on my hands and knees, but can’t because I don’t want to risk catching its disease.
I need to write about how I married poetry without a pre-nup.
Because I know if we break-up…she’ll take custody of our two kids, wisdom and insight.
I need to write about mother’s being fathers and fathers being martyrs.
I need to write about how drug-heads should lay in bed
And smoke shreds of my poetry
Or do a line of my lines, until they get high off my lyrical genius.
I need to write about how we are all born by a female but yet we still live in a man’s world.
I need to write about how now-a-days there is no distinction between a woman and a girl.
I need to write about how the recession is just another excuse.
I need to write about being homeless because home is where the heart is.
I need to write about how babies destined for greatness get slaughtered, sucked out, and fleshed away before their first breaths.
I need to write about Willie Lynch and Jim Crow.
I need to write about Hitler and Stalin.
I need to write about taking back our righteous minds.
I need to write about having an empty space where a heart should be.
I need to write about the other 85% of our brains since studies say humans only use 15.
I need to write about how slavery was abolished but black people still buy whips and chains.
I need to write about how I would lay in a ditch to be stoned or carry a cross to my own crucifixion if it meant we would believe in each other more.
I need to write about the pretty flowers whose absent fathers are the water they need to grow.
I need to write about how teachers are master gardeners that plant seeds of knowledge deeply rooted in our minds and pull up the weeds that try to shorten our bright futures.
I need to write about being alone because the people with money bought all the friends left.
I need to write about the rich being loveless since money can’t buy love.
I need to write the stories of all the sore losers since love is a losing game.
I need to write about being a loser since the good guy never wins.
I need to write.
I need to. I need to. I need-
My addiction is inevitable.
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