My Drug

My Drug

By J.Lynne Moore

They cut me open,
Out bled ink…
The floor turned black,
I was on the brink.

My brain over stuffed,
With word after word;
No sense could be made,
My thoughts absurd.

Voices…all mine,
Fight to be first.
Puke them on paper,
I seem to be cursed.

Addicted to rhyme,
It’s my drug of choice.
Give me pen and paper,
I’ll find my voice.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

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