"When I feel like I have nothing left, I veer off into the weed smoke. Praising God for just the strength. Seems like I'm getting pulled from every direction, while trying to keep my sanity intact, but when I get a chance to rest, I reflect on dreams where my poetry is my escape. Words not spoken becomes my friend, weed smoke roasting like chestnuts on an open fire, while trying to relax. Keep my mind on the beat, and praying that I'm felt. God is my witness when the pen bleeds between the lines of a man, not complex but simple to the love bestowed upon me to put it out there. And, not be ashamed of how it comes out, but knowing it's one less thing I have to fight. So, when I visualize releasing I'm looking for a blunt to choke on, a pen and pad to recite and let my mind flow, cause it makes me feel better, to let poetry be my voice and say to God how thankful I am to have this amazing gift, to not let the pulling and tugging tear me into pieces. Cause nothing but what's inside me matters. Just somedays I feel like losing it."
©gazeldeas
G