This is pen is far too vociferous,
illuminates the disabled rage,
dismissing my concerns, as if
outgoing messages are company
for its dispassionate agenda.
No privacy for ailing, sleeping,
I would physically eject the offending
appendage, but cannot bear reopening
of wounds, recognizing the sins are
mine, no matter how unintentional.
Words can be a trap, take on a beat
of their own, history rearing on page,
leaving me raw-nerved, reeling, their
thoughtlessness a venomous refusal
to remain a victim – I am inflamed.
How to banish the thoughts smouldering
like a cigarette, daring me to inhale,
choke on my own toxicity; I must expunge
the intrusion, recall this maddening vow
to create; withdraw to the safety of illness
shuttered away from the crowd, a blue
silence warming this frozen heart –
maybe, I’ll write a note and leave it
on the dashboard, command the pen
and its itinerary to leave me alone.
(Image: hellenmasido.wordpress.com)
Enjoyed this! The fourth verse in particular … bravo!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Diana! I dropped by your site – you are a talented writer. I couldn’t see how to follow you, and I’d like to.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m all smiles! Grateful V!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Figured it out! Following now.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely! Thanks so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Banish the pen? If I did such, I’d just be scrambling for sticks to write in the sand … !!
I can feel this poem viscerally, very powerful.
Sitting with “what is” inside leads to understanding the triggers, which helps long-term to resist those triggers down the line … but in the reflecting hours truly is consuming, exhausting … I indeed feel trapped by the words spilling out of me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Jazz – of course it’s not literal for me – gave up the pen years ago, lol. I tossed and turned all night, words buzzing in my head. Need to rest.
LikeLiked by 1 person