when I needed a distraction

I write so I can breathe

To alleviate the crushing weight on my chest that flattens my lungs in an unending exhale

I write to busy the hands that would otherwise dig their fingers into the base of my throat and tattoo in raw, red ink of my shortcomings and failures on the bony protrusions of my collar with their sharpened nails

Pen as sword and paper shield

An armory of ink pooling and falling to my jawline where it collapses, leaving me forever

Unarmed again

I write to clear the smog that clouds my vision and chokes my senses, filling canals of black smoke and despair that wallow and travel,

Blindly circulating

Swirling and twisting and tainting my irises to shadows and bleeding black from my lips

I write to be free of that which resides within me all the while

Waiting for me to forget how to write