The Loudmouth Mooch

  He called me I was alone. He called me when I cried. He called me when I needed help. He called me when I lost a friend. He called me when a friend is all I could want. He called me when I wanted to fly. He called me when I dreamt. He called me when I was fired. He called me when I wanted to dance. He called me when I had been dumped. He called me when I listened to music. He called me when I wanted to see the waves. He called me when I didn't like the people I was with. He called me when I felt low. He called me when I couldn't be touched. He called me when my skin felt like fire. He called me when his skin felt like fire. He called me when he wanted to be touched. He called me when I told him no. He called me after I told him no. He called me and I couldn't exist anymore. He called me and I told him good-bye.

  What is this feeling? Blindsided like a surprise storm on a muggy night In the summery swampland of my hometown. The murky waters of my grief rising,  In the corners of my souther heart. I remember a time when love bloomed  Like camellias in the spring of my youth. Only for the petals to be blown away By the turbulent winds of a hurricane. Hoping maybe that the seeds of my joy can take root, And thrive in a new and foreign place.

  I just need to write something. Ideas bubbling under the surface, Ready to have their souls bared on a blank page. If only my mind was ready to release them from their captivity. I just need to write something. Today I shared a poem I was able to get out, Praises from their readers shocked me  like a surprise firework in the night sky. Those technicolor sparks brimming with  a shred of hope and a bounty of expectation. I just need to write something. My creativity is a cancer and I its unwitting victim. When finally I'm aware, its murderous clutches have already found me. My heart pounds in fear, my sanity on the haggard fringes. I just need to write something. Questions swarm around me, watching their prey as they prepare to take me away from this place of terror. Will I ever fly away from this turbulent storm? I just need to write something. I crave peace, I crave escape, My soul ragged from its marathon of possibility. Maybe the time has come, maybe I can finally be ...