My Release

Jocelyn Cook, 2005

Writing, the release

Pouring my heart out on paper

No bull shit

Can’t be interrupted

Interrupted with unsolicited advice

Lately my release is gone

I struggle with sharing

The real, raw, realities of life

Big and small

That which stirs my heart

How does one react?

Does one read of obligation?

Logic would say no, yet I wonder

Writing is like slowly undressing

Naked

I standing for all to see

You’ll find me here

Imperfections revealed

Unclothed

Exposed in my words

Naked you’ll find me here in my words

Always – not just this once – but always

Do you look by choice or obligation?

I sit here and find myself wondering why I keep coming back to the same questions I’ve mulled over time and again; spoke about time and again, wrote about time and again. And as such here I go again. Aimlessly rambling for the sake of release about one of the many things plaguing my mind tonight.

Why does this happen

This pain

That pain staking process of love and loss

Vulnerability

Writing is so weird

Sharing seems boring

Are you board yet?

Sitting here reading my ramblings

Do you understand?

They make no sense

These ramblings

My naked body

They’re more than warm flesh

These letters

The words

My release