Ink and Trees


If you think of butterflies escaping from the ballpoint

Like coming up for air,

After being submerged in the ocean of fear

For 19 long years.

It’s possible that you could feel what I feel.

Feel that surge of energy

Like a nuclear bomb detonating in the water,

Nobody else worries about the fish that are going to die.

A rocket taking off,

5 4 3 2 1…

We have freedom!

 The words soar across my page,

Leaving behind a trail of regrets

Disintegrated into the fire we call life.

If you can imagine the sun,

Dancing on the floor

 Made by the horizon and clouds

Tapping and swaying to my increasing heart beat

Adapting to the rhythm I’ve convinced myself is an arrhythmia

Striking a pose in the final decibels of my silenced voice

You may be able to picture my joy

The rush

 The purest drug

Coursing through my veins

That high

My anxiety in rehab

Depression is in recovery

 The light that reflects

From the contact of pen and page

A prism in my darkest of days

Comes from the depths of me

Fluid connection of letters

An illegible scrawl

Seems to be the only clarity I need

The only lens I can see through

A compass I can follow and a map I can read

Writing don’t you see

Is so much more to me than ink and trees

It’s one of the times

It feels okay

Just to be me


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