Finding Air

My brain is weaving,

searching for fluid.

Fuel to make my hand

move the pen.

These words are

my disease, I admit.

If I die because of it,

at least it'll be peaceful.

Pour me another glass

as I keep searching.

Tell me, where 

did my words go?

Without them,

I cannot breathe.

Someone, please

help me find my air. 

Reviews

[CMBH]

This poem captures the essences of being a writer because the spoken and written words are just as important as breathing air. Good job and keep up the awesome inspiring work.

[icelandicblue]

We are lovers of words, we breathe them in so that we might paint the world with them.

[...]

Blinks as your carbon dioxide parts my hair

[Lydia Shutter]

Indeed, writing is as important as breathing to the poet. The words do return...truly. You will find inspiration again. Actually, this poem proves that to me. I enjoyed it. Lydi**

[Neville]

Quite a delight to read my literary friend, very good indeed... N

[Jamestown]

Awesome piece of work! The writer's here will definitely be able to relate
to this write no doubt! Thanks for sharing and b-blessed!