"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Friday, November 19, 2010

Confession at a Price

A therapist seeks my confession
The release of the darkness
Hidden deep in my psyche
All for a price
A clock ticking dollar signs

I refuse to sit and be prodded
To delve into my pain
Wounds opened without a bandage
Why what where how
My soul’s laundry to be sorted
And hung on a rusty clothesline

If Pandora’s box is to be opened
It will be by my hand
A couch of paper and pen
Exposing the monsters in my mind
Poetic therapy cleansing me of agony

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