poet, heal thyself

penstrokes on paper, 

toothy grain soaking up 

the glut of my mind's suppurations, 

my words gliding across the page. 

contentment whelms inside my heart, 

as all foibles, fears and uneasiness 

slowly seep from my aching head, 

down through my arm, 

past my fingertips, 

and into the inkformed words 

before me

Reviews

[cest la vie]

We write to live, don't we now?
Beautiful piece..

[miSS LEaf]

yes, heal ourselves, not kill ourselves, ;) wonderful Jenn ~hugs~

[Wildfleour]

Love, love, love this!

[JustWantLove]

Gloriously written!