Tumble

I am caught in a whirlwind
a virtual torrent
of feelings and emotions
I am going to write this piece
until something I need out of
me leaves.
Whether it be the hurt,
the pain
the joy or refrain.
I am not going to follow any pattern
right now that isn't what matters.
I feel what matters
is the ripping open of a chest
where hearts beat
and blood spatters.
Not that mine is open.
I am merely saying.
That many times a heart is on display.
who has authority to say
what makes that heart "feel" anyway?
I've whined for two days that my spirit has been slightly squelched.
But I can make it burn again.
it's my choice after all
who can intrude upon it.
I may get a notion to pen the sappiest love poem
this side of any ocean.
I have been feeling that as a writer
I am scrutinized for what i do or don't write.
if I pen about love i'm delusional and mushy.
If I pen about pain I'm raging and pushy.
If I pen about sex, I'm a nymphomaniac.
if I pen about sadness, i''m merely feeding my madness.
This piece here about covers each and every one of these emotions.
I am
Pushy, mushy,
manic panic
bold and sassy
nymphomaniac
erotic chic
a lunatic.
A romantic fool
a raging bull
a friend
a pal
a crazy gal
a mom
a wife
a girlfriend
in strife.
I'm lost'
I'm sane
and rearranged.
I'm sad
but strong
I don't belong.
A chump
a sap
a heart attack.
starving writer
lover
fighter.
I have settled
for my life.
The one I had
was sacrificed.