Til I’m done

How can I get the urge
The desire to write
To put down all the pain
And joy
And sometimes
Mostly suffering
On the bright white
How to churn up that feeling
How to nick it
Kick it in its guts
To draw blood
To drip drop
To call someone my love
The acrylic the oil
The memories all but gone
How I long to see you hanging
How much longer
Til I’m done?

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