the good, bad and ugly

 
honesty is an art form
but should you be truthful to the point of pain
to the extent that you are confronted with your own truths?
 
I am such a writer
always pushing myself to reveal hard facts about myself
digging ever deeper into my psyche for self-revelations
 
it hurts and sometimes I feel ashamed  
by the words staring back at me but I persist
I don't know what drives me
only that I'm driven
perhaps even possessed to create with my very soul
 
it's a dark place full of secrets
and lies I tell myself
as well as a place of great beauty
sometimes I'm surprised by its depths
 
I felt shame for "branded by the night" a poem I wrote
and stupid for revealing such a dark side  
of my broken childhood psyche
but she is there  
this traumatized child who dreamed of dark things
because she felt unloved and unwanted
 
I write a lot about the devil
some people don't believe he exists
but as a child age one thru three on my own most of the time
with no one to talk to me but the spirits
I can tell you there is a dark presence
he was my constant company
him and another more benevolent spirit
 
they comfort me in times of pain
talk to me when no one else is about
and I trust them
the world will lie to you
I will lie to me
they are honest
the good, bad and ugly truth
 
the hard fact is I'm an addict
addicted to words
addicted to drugs
anything for that mind change
I think that started in childhood  
me and the Codeine cough syrup
didn't know what it was just that it felt good  
 
being truthful doesn't always feel good
it often hurts, shame burns and blood rushes to my face
but there it is
 
it's a diary of where I've been
where I'm going
and where I'm at