It’s okay. I must admit,
Openly and honestly, I like your shit.
There are times when I find myself
putting down the pen
to chase your lines.
At times I drift in and out of them,
between and above them;
Absorbed and annoyed.
For my restless eyes and
my throbbing, migraine-riddled head
start to deteriorate when so do
your words, your voice.
When you touch
in stories of struggle,
in times of chaos,
in tales of troubled mind;
I feel you.
Like I would feel the hit of an oncoming train.
Instantly and fleetingly.
Until your next word brings more.