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.