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May 2014
I write because if I didn't
I would choke on my thoughts
like a piece of half-chewed steak.
I would gag, turn red and meet certain death
from the inside out.
No need for first aid.
I write.

I write to express the dark and the heavenly
snapshots that sit undeveloped in my mind
potentially creating blurs and plaque over time.
I paint pictures with words in lieu of oil base
My pen draws me within
It is the high that I chase.
I write.

I write because words are my music
Poetry my score.
I close my eyes, disappear.
Shhhh. Can you hear?
That motion picture soundtrack?
The stories that play
havoc and bliss in my brain
are much more captivating than
real scenes too mundane to name.
I write


I write because without it I just couldn't breathe.
I'd huff and puff
And finally asphyxiate on just.... me.
Words are my blood
sharing life from my core
Yet my pain is tinted with rainbows.
Open me up;
watch me pour.
I write.
On behalf of all poets who have ever lived and are yet to be born.
Lyteweaver
Written by
Lyteweaver  Saint Petersburg, FL
(Saint Petersburg, FL)   
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