i write
because i have this stuff--i don't know what
inside of me
and it doesn't belong there
rotting away at my bones making them weak and my vision blurry
i'm a volcano spewing pain
trying to make sense of what i'm feeling
a tennis match between myself, a weakling
and twenty foot tall beasts of my imagination
i'm losing
and then
i'm winning
i'm turning my monsters into flowers that thrive best in volcanic ash
and i write
because i love seeing the flowers bloom